MRS  HARDEN 

ROBERT  HICHENS 


BY 

ROBERT   HICHENS 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH,"  "THE  GREEN 

CARNATION,"  "BELLA  DONNA,"  "THE  CALL 

OF  THE  BLOOD,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  XHr  YORK 

GEORGE   H.  DORAN   COMPANY 


Copyright,  1919, 
My  George  H.  Dor  an  Company 


Printed  in  the  United  Stat&s  of  America 


MRS  MARDEN 


2229115 


MRS   MARDEN 


CHAPTER  I 

BEFORE  the  great  war  broke  out  Mrs  Marden 
had  been,  or  had  seemed  to  most  of  her  ac- 
quaintances to  be,  a  decidedly  worldly  woman. 
She  was  good-looking  in  a  dark  and  rather 
disturbing  way,  with  brilliant  observant  eyes, 
a  clear  white  complexion  and  quantities  of  jet 
black  hair.  She  was  fairly  clever  on  hap- 
hazard lines,  could  be  entertaining,  cared  very 
much  for  clothes,  society  and  change,  and  spent 
a  great  deal  of  money  chiefly  on  herself  and  her 
only  son,  Ronald.  Her  husband  had  died  when 
Ronald  was  ten,  and  she  had  never  seemed  to 
regret  him  very  much,  though  it  was  supposed 
that  she  had  married  for  love.  She  always 
showed  great  affection  for  her  boy,  who  was 
handsome,  gay  and  joyous,  and  of  whom  she 
was  obviously  proud.  But  even  her  closest 
friends  thought  her  a  decidedly  frivolous 
woman,  and  few,  or  none,  suspected  her  of 
having  any  great  depth  of  character,  or  any 

7 


8  MRS  HARDEN 

intensity  of  emotion.  Many  a  mother  is  proud 
of  a  handsome  and  popular  son.  Why  not 
Evelyn  Marden?  Ronald  did  her  credit.  Of 
course  she  was  fond  of  him.  It  would  have 
been  odd  if  she  had  not  been. 

Both  mother  and  son  took  life  easily,  gaily. 
Ronald,  after  his  schooling,  entered  the  Grena- 
dier Guards.  He  was  a  first-rate  horseman,  a 
splendid  dancer,  an  accomplished  flirt,  and  a 
very  kind  and  affectionate  son.  His  Mother 
and  he  were  good  comrades.  They  had  a  simi- 
lar taste  for  gaiety  and  all  the  good  things  of 
life,  a  similar  distaste  for  serious  thought  and 
for  what  they  called  "  the  solemnities  ".  Neither 
had  any  strong  feeling  for  religion,  any  interest 
in  the  deep  problems  of  life.  Both  were  butter- 
flies. Both  energetically  lived  for  the  day,  and 
both  thoroughly  enjoyed  their  light  and  suc- 
cessful existences. 

Then  the  great  war  broke  upon  the  world  and 
the  Guards  were  ordered  to  France. 

The  day  for  Ronald's  departure  came.  He 
was  in  high  spirits,  full  of  an  almost  animal 
expectation  of  new  excitements  and  marvellous 
experiences.  The  sense  of  impending  danger 
did  not  trouble  his  spirit.  It  really  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  death  might  be  awaiting  Jilrn 
out  there  on  the  other  side  of  the  water.  He 


ROBERT  HICHENS  9 

had  the  curious,  and  wholly  unreasonable  feel- 
ing, common  to  many  men  in  the  flush  of  their 
youth,  that  others  might  die  but  not  he. 

When  the  time  drew  near  for  him  to  say 
good-bye  to  his  Mother  he  saw  for  the  first  time 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  "  he  asked  her. 

"  Of  course  I  am !  "  she  said,  almost  crossly 
and  as  if  she  were  half  ashamed. 

'  You  needn't  be.  I  know  I  shall  come  back 
all  right." 

"  How  can  you  know? "  she  said. 

"  I  just  feel  it  in  my  bones.  I'm  convinced 
of  it.  One  knows  such  things." 

'  That's  all  nonsense,  Ronald.  We  can't  look 
into  the  future." 

:'  I've  never  wanted  to.    Have  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I've  ever  thought  much 
about  it  till  now.  But  a  war  like  this  makes 
one  think." 

"  Look  here,  Mother,  if  you  turn  so  awfully 
serious  all  of  a  sudden  you'll  give  me  the  creeps. 
Do  you  want  to  unnerve  me?  " 

His  still  laughing  eyes  sought  hers. 

"  Bid  me  good-bye  gaily  and  it  will  be  a  good 
omen.  I  believe  fear  brings  beastly  things  on 
a  man.  Most  of  the  fellows  are  wild  to  be  off. 
There's  precious  little  weeping  and  gnashing  of 


10  MRS  HARDEN 

teeth  in  the  regiment,  I  can  tell  you.  You 
don't  want  me  to  be  an  exception,  do  you?  " 

"  Of  course  not.  But  you  musn't  expect  a 
woman  to  rejoice  at  such  a  time  as  this.  It 
wouldn't  be  natural." 

"  Now  do  buck  up,  Mother,  or  I  shall  have 
a  bad  memory  of  you  to  take  away  with  me." 

Perhaps  this  half  smiling  threat  struck  home 
to  Mrs  Marden.  Anyhow  she  seemed  to  fall 
in  with  her  son's  humour  and  she  managed 
to  bid  him  good-bye  almost  gaily.  His  absolute 
certainty  that  he  would  come  out  of  "  it "  all 
right  certainly  cheered  her  up.  She  said  to  her- 
self, "  Perhaps  somehow  he  knows.  Such  a 
conviction  may  be  founded  on  fact,  conveyed  to 
him  Heaven  alone  can  tell  how.  I  mustn't  be 
a  fool.  A  coward  dies  a  thousand  deaths.  So 
what's  the  good  of  being  a  coward?" 

And  she  saw  him  off  without  tears. 

But  when  he  was  gone  she  felt,  as  she  would 
have  expressed  it,  horrible.  Suddenly  all  the 
pleasant  things  on  which  she  had  till  now  de- 
pended for  enjoyment  were  as  nothing  to  her. 
A  sense  almost  of  anger,  at  any  rate  of  injury, 
possessed  her.  She  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
It  was  no  use  sitting  at  home  and  "  grousing  ". 
On  the  other  hand  when  she  went  about  she 
felt  like  a  lost  dog.  The  effort  to  seem  gay 


ROBERT  HICHENS  11 

* 

fatigued  her  soul.  Besides  gaiety  was  slipping 
out  of  London.  She  realised  abruptly  how  little 
her  companions  in  pleasure  meant  to  her.  She 
longed  to  "  hang  on  "  to  something,  but  there 
was  nothing  at  hand  to  hang  on  to. 

She  took  a  feverish  interest  in  the  war  and 
read  five  or  six  London  papers  a  day.  But 
what  she  read  only  deepened  her  misery.  For 
doom  seemed  approaching  from  Germany  with 
elemental  steps.  And  the  Guards  were  in  the 
thick  of  the  struggle. 

Many  women  whom  she  knew,  and  who  had 
always  seemed  to  be  butterflies  like  herself,  had 
taken  suddenly  to  going  to  church.  She  thought 
she  would  go  to  church.  If  she  was  anything 
she  supposed  she  was  a  Protestant.  So  she  went 
to  a  Protestant  church.  She  knelt,  she  made  a 
half-hearted  effort  to  pray.  But  all  the  time 
she  was  on  her  knees,  with  her  face  in  her 
hands,  something  within  her  kept  saying,  "  What 
is  the  good  of  this  sort  of  thing?  "  She  had  not 
the  slightest  feeling  of  any  nearness  to  God, 
of  being  in  communication  with  anyone.  That 
there  was  some  mysterious  Power  which  had 
brought  the  earth  on  which  she  lived,  and  all 
those  other  worlds  which  she  knew  nothing  of, 
into  being,  she  vaguely  believed.  But  she 
really  could  not  believe  that  this  Power  had 


12  MRS  HARDEN 

ears  to  hear  anything  she  might  say,  or  a  heart 
to  bother  about  her.  She  thought  of  the 
millions  of  men  and  women  in  Asia — China 
especially;  she  did  not  know  why — in  Africa, 
America,  and  elsewhere,  and  she  thought,  "  Of 
course  it's  absolute  nonsense  to  imagine  that 
He,  or  It,  can  attend  to  individuals,  or  know 
anything  whatever  about  them.  The  idea  is 
ridiculous."  And  her  brain  blankly  rejected  it. 
Some  hymns  were  sung.  Her  literary  sense 
— she  had  a  good  deal  of  light-hearted  interest 
in  the  arts — condemned  them.  They  were  un- 
doubtedly puerile  as  literature.  And  the  music 
to  which  they  were  set — she  liked  the  modern 
school  in  music,  Poldowski,  Cyril  Scott,  Scria- 
bine,  Delius — seemed  to  her  terribly  "  tuney  " 
and  banal.  Then  a  clergyman  mounted  into 
the  pulpit.  He  was  a  tall,  ascetic  looking  man, 
with  a  cadaverous  face,  lantern  jaws  and  earnest 
but  melancholy  eyes.  As  Mrs  Marden  looked 
up  at  him  she  felt  that  he  was  the  sort  of  man 
she  would  never  be  able  to  "  get  on  with  "  in 
private  life.  While  he  was  giving  out  his  text 
she  was  thinking  how  she  would  feel  if  she  had 
to  sit  next  him  at  a  dinner.  She  was  sure  their 
attempts  at  conversation  with  each  other  would 
prove  a  fiasco.  Still,  there  he  was,  a  clergyman, 
one  who  had  chosen  the  profession  of  trying 


ROBERT  HICHENS  13 

to  help  others  in  moments  of  difficulty  or  dis- 
tress; one  who  no  doubt  believed  thoroughly 
in  all  the  things  she  had  never  been  able  to 
believe  in.  She  might  get  something  from  him. 
He  might  open  a  door  for  her,  enable  her  to 
pass  into  some  chamber  where  comfort  awaited 
her.  She  was  determined  to  listen  to  him.  And 
she  did  listen. 

He  preached  about  the  war.  He  said  that 
it  was  a  "  visitation  "  sent  to  the  world  because 
of  the  world's  wickedness.  He  declared  that 
Europe  had  earned  a  great  war,  that  indeed  it 
was  overdue,  as  the  evil  of  the  times  "  cried  to 
Heaven  ".  Warming  to  his  theme  he  spoke  of 
gluttony,  the  passion  for  dress,  bridge  parties, 
the  loosening  of  the  marriage  tie,  the  craze  for 
pleasure,  motoring  on  the  Sabbath,  beauty 
shows,  cigarette  smoking,  prostitution,  the  wor- 
ship of  games,  racing  with  its  attendant  evil  of 
betting  on  the  horses,  the  Tango—  "  but  that's 
gone  out  long  ago,"  thought  Mrs  Marden  in 
her  pew — music  halls,  and  other  horrors.  "  I 
have  never  set  foot  in  a  music  hall,"  he  said. 

"  But   I   am  told "   and  there   followed   a 

torrent  of  hearsay. 

'  This    is    no    good    to    me,"    thought    Mrs 
Marden. 

Nevertheless  she  continued  to  listen. 


14  MRS  HARDEN 

Having  set  out  the  list  of  those  things  which 
cried  to  Heaven  for  punishment,  among  which 
were  a  good  many  indulged  in  from  time  to  time 
by  Mrs  Marden — she  had,  for  instance,  danced 
the  Tango  when  it  was  in  fashion,  and  had 
frequently  played  bridge  and  motored  on  the 
Sabbath — the  Preacher  proceeded  to  a  con- 
sideration of  what  he  called  "  God's  Justice  ". 
He  illustrated  this  by  a  reference  to  the  earth- 
quake at  Messina  which  so  horrified  the  world 
some  years  ago.  Many  people,  he  said,  had 
asked  how  God  could  allow  such  a  disaster; 
some  had  even  had  their  faith  shaken  by  it.  But 
though  he  himself — the  music  hall  over  again — 
had  never  set  foot  in  Messina  he  had  been 
"  credibly  informed "  that  before  the  earth- 
quake it  had  been  the  wickedest  city  in  the 
whole  of  Europe.  Mrs  Marden,  who  knew  both 
Paris  and  Messina — as  well  as  her  London- 
could  not  help  smiling  at  this  announcement. 
"  Poor  dear  little  Messina!  "  she  thought.  And 
again  the  voice  within  her  said  "  This  is  no  good 
to  me ".  From  that  moment  her  attention 
began  to  wander.  Nevertheless  she  was  often 
looking  at  the  Preacher.  She  found  herself  as 
it  were  musing  over  his  peculiar  features,  dwell- 
ing on,  almost  dallying  with — mentally  of 
course — his  long  thin  nose,  his  sunken  cheeks, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  15 

his  jutting  forehead  and  earnest,  melancholy 
eyes.  And  so  this  was  a  clergyman!  She  felt 
sure  he  was  a  very  good  man.  There  was  some- 
thing in  his  expression  and  even  in  his  manner 
which  informed  her  of  that.  He  looked  self- 
denying.  He  was  certainly  not  a  glutton.  She 
felt  as  she  gazed  quite  positive  that  he  had 
never  danced  the  Tango,  even  when  it  was  no 
longer  in  fashion,  that  he  had  never  betted  on  a 
horse,  or  entered  himself  as  a  candidate  for  a 
prize  in  a  beauty  show.  He  had  done  none 
of  these  things,  he  was  a  good  man.  But,  in 
her  view,  he  was  an  impossible  man,  too  peculiar, 
too  unlike  ordinary  men,  such  as  she  knew,  to 
be  able  to  judge  of  them.  And  as  for  women 
she  felt  convinced  he  was  a  celibate.  (As  a 
matter  of  fact  he  was.)  Anyhow  she  knew, 
like  Ronald,  in  her  "  bones  ",  that  he  did  not 
understand  women.  Towards  the  end  of  the 
sermon,  detaching  her  mind  for  a  moment  from 
the  Preacher's  physique,  she  caught  the  words, 
"  we  must  welcome  this  war.  We  must  take  it 
joyfully  as  a  lesson  which  will  lead  us  to  a 
higher  knowledge  of  our  responsibilities,  to  a 
deeper  sense  of  our  sins,  to  a  fuller  realisation 
of  what  is  required  of  us." 

"  Oh  dear!  "  she  thought.    "  .Why  did  I  come 
here?" 


16  MRS  HARDEN 

The  service  closed  with  a  hymn  in  which  the 
rhyming  was  obviously  faulty  and  the  tune, 
according  to  Mrs  Marden's  view,  vulgarly 
hilarious.  Meanwhile  a  collection  was  "  taken 
up  "  by  several  elderly  men  of  lugubrious  aspect, 
who  looked  towards  the  horizon  while  the  bag 
went  from  hand  to  hand.  Mrs  Marden  gave 
two  shillings  and  presently  retired  in  a  repent- 
ant frame  of  mind;  that  is,  she  repented  of 
having  gone  to  church. 

Having  from  this  moment  decided  that  she 
was  not,  and  could  not  be  religious,  she  looked 
about  her  for  some  other  form  of  solace.  Many 
of  the  women  whom  she  knew  were  taking  up 
"  war  work  ".  Some  were  collecting  subscrip- 
tions for  various  funds,  some  were  preparing 
themselves  to  be  nurses  in  hospitals,  some  were 
scrubbing  floors  and  carrying  up  and  down 
stairs  plates  and  glasses  and  cups,  some  were 
learning  to  drive  motors.  One  woman  she  knew 
had  taken  a  man's  place  in  an  office.  Several 
were  working  busily  among  fugitive  Belgians, 
placing  them  out  in  private  houses,  finding  occu- 
pations for  them.  Finally  Mrs  Marden  decided 
to  take  in  some  Belgians.  She  screwed  her 
courage  to  the  sticking  point  and  took  in  three, 
an  elderly  fat  man  and  his  two  daughters.  But 
this  experiment  was  not  a  success.  Her  guests, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  17 

who  spoke  only  Flemish,  did  not  seem  con- 
tented or  grateful.  They  were  ill  at  ease  in 
her  house,  complained  of  the  food  in  a  language 
which  no  one  understood,  were  untidy  in  the 
bedrooms,  and  evidently  bored  to  death  at  her 
efforts  to  entertain  them.  Finally  one  of  them, 
the  youngest  daughter,  was  seized  with  the 
German  measles.  She  had  to  be  removed  in  an 
ambulance  to  a  hospital.  The  other  two  then 
requested  to  be  placed  in  more  congenial  sur- 
roundings, and  eventually  evaporated  to 
Shepherd's  Bush.  (Mrs  Marden  lived  in  Hans 
Place.) 

So  ended  this  little  experiment,  in  distraction. 

The  war  went  on.  Ronald  was  still  all  right 
and  his  Mother  began  to  lose  some  of  her  fear 
for  him.  He  wrote  to  her  that  he  had  "  a 
charmed  life  ".  She  was  buoyed  up  by  hope  for 
him.  No  doubt  he  would  come  out  of  it  safely. 

Nevertheless  she  was  often  conscious  of  a 
secret  undercurrent  of  anxiety  and  uneasiness. 
She  felt  constantly  "  worried  ",  and,  when  she 
looked  in  the  glass,  saw  little  lines  here  and 
there  on  her  face  which  troubled  her.  '  War  is 
terribly  ageing,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  must 
do  something  to  distract  my  mind."  The  ques- 
tion was  what  to  do.  She  did  not  feel  herself 
fitted  for  hospital  work.  Driving  a  motor  was 


18  MRS  HARDEN 

not  in  her  line.  The  attitude  involved  in  scrub- 
bing floors  was  too  undignified  for  a  woman 
of  her  age.  She  wished  very  much  that  some- 
thing would  turn  up. 

It  did. 

War  matinees  began  to  be  the  fashion.  A 
friend  of  Mrs  Marden's  got  up  one  at  the 
Palace  Theatre  and  asked  Mrs  Marden  whether 
she  would  take  charge  of  the  programme  sellers, 
who  were  to  be  pretty  and  fashionable  girls  of 
society  and  well  known  actresses. 

"But  how  am  I  to  take  charge  of  them?" 
she  enquired. 

"  Oh,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  put  on  your 
last  new  gown,  your  smartest  hat,  come  to  the 
theatre  in  good  time,  assemble  all  the  sellers 
together,  tell  each  one  where  to  go,  and  see  that 
they  keep  busy.  Map  out  the  theatre  on  paper. 
Some  must  stay  in  the  foyer  and  near  the  en- 
trance. Others  take  the  boxes,  others  the  stalls, 
dress  circle,  upper  boxes,  pit,  gallery.  Tell 
them  all  to  get  as  much  money  as  ever  they 
can,  and  to  go  especially  for  the  men.  There's 
going  to  be  an  album  sold,  with  photographs 
and  autographs.  You  might  sell  copies  of  it 
yourself.  Wander  about  the  stalls  in  the  inter- 
vals, smile  and  look  charming.  Wheedle  people. 
Don't  be  humble.  That's  no  good  at  all.  Be 


ROBERT  HICHENS  19 

determined.  Look  surprised  if  they  only  give 
the  exact  price  of  the  album,  and  keep  on  say- 
ing, 'But  it's  for  the  soldiers,,  you  know!' 
It's  really  quite  easy." 

'  Very  well!  "  said  Mrs  Marden. 

And  she  went  off  to  Lucille's  and  ordered 
a  new  gown.  She  also  looked  in  at  a  shop  in 
South  Molton  Street  and  bought  a  triumphant 
hat. 

And  she  made  a  success  of  it.  She  was  both 
fascinating  and  practical.  Nothing  escaped  her 
observant  eyes.  No  one  eluded  her  clutches. 
She  spurred  the  pretty  girls  to  their  work.  She 
was  charmingly  sympathetic  to  the  actresses. 
And  her  wanderings  among  the  stalls  brought 
in  a  rich  harvest.  Wheedling,  she  discovered, 
came  natural  to  her.  Even  elderly  ladies- 
difficult  propositions  these — fell  ready  victims 
to  her  smiles  and  persistence. 

"  Evelyn  Marden's  a  find,"  said  the  friend 
who  had  got  up  the  matinee. 

And  Mrs  Marden  was  started  on  her  career. 
She  had  found  the  war  work  that  suited  her. 
At  almost  every  really  fashionable  matinee  she 
was  in  charge  of  the  programme  sellers.  And 
her  name  appeared  in  large  letters  on  the 
programmes  and  was  announced  beforehand  in 
the  papers.  She  had  the  pleasure  of  reading 


20  MRS  HARDEN 

again  and  again  in  the  Daily  Telegraph,  "  Mrs 
Marden  will  be  in  charge  of  the  programme 
sellers,  among  whom  will  be  Lady  Mariana 
Danvers " — and  then  followed  a  long  list  of 
popular  names. 

She  began  to  feel  herself  quite  a  celebrity. 
That  was  not  unpleasant.  And  then  she  had  to 
keep  on  replenishing  her  wardrobe.  She  couldn't 
of  course  wear  the  same  hat  and  gown  at  two 
matinees  in  succession. 

She  began  really  to  enjoy  herself  and  to  feel 
she  was  a  useful  woman.  She  talked  of  "  my 
work  "  and  when  she  was  starting  for  Drury 
Lane,  or  His  Majesty's,  or  the  St.  James's, 
would  say,  "  Well,  I  must  be  off  to  my  work. 
The  war  doesn't  give  me  much  rest  nowadays." 

Ronald  was  well  and  hadn't  had  a  scratch. 
Life  in  wartime  was  not  such  a  bad  thing  after 
all.  It  was  nice  to  be  useful,  pleasant  to  have 
found  one's  niche.  It  gave  one  quite  a  little 
thrill  to  put  on  a  new  gown,  that  suited  one 
perfectly,  and  a  hat  that  took  off  at  least  five 
years  from  one's  age,  and  to  start  out  in  the 
motor  to  do  one's  bit. 

"  Ronald  is  working  in  his  way,  and  I  am 
working  in  mine,"  Mrs  Marden  said  to  herself 
with  an  agreeable  sense,  of  self-satisfaction. 

One  day  a  Royal  Princess   who   "  ran "   a 


21 


hospital  for  wounded  soldiers,  and  who  was 
in  difficulties  for  funds,  resolved  to  get  up  a 
monster  matinee  at  the  Coliseum,  and,  to  Mrs 
Marden's  great  delight,  got  her  secretary  to 
write  a  note  begging  to  know  whether  Mrs 
Marden  would  be  so  very  kind  as  to  give  her 
clever  and  invaluable  assistance  as  organiser 
of  the  programme  sellers. 

"H.R.H.,"  ran  the  note,  "has  heard  how 
wonderful  you  are  in  your  efforts  for  the  war 
charities,  and  would  be  very  grateful  for  your 
services  if  quite  convenient  to  you." 

Of  course  it  was  quite  convenient  to  Mrs 
Marden,  and  she  went  at  once  to  Reville  and 
Rossiter's  to  see  about  a  gown  for  the 
occasion. 

The  day  of  the  Princess's  matinee  was  one 
of  her  greatest  triumphs  in  the  good  cause.  The 
theatre  was  crammed.  Two  Queens  and  seven 
Princesses  were  present,  and  Mrs  Marden  was 
presented  to  them  all.  Her  hat  was  really  the 
smartest  in  the  theatre,  and  as  she  wandered 
along  the  stalls,  wheedling  money  from  the 
purses  of  the  aristocracy  and  the  charitable 
snobs  who  filled  them,  it  could  be  seen  by  almost 
everyone.  That  was  one  of  the  rewards  of  the 
ardent  worker,  and  surely  no  one  could  grudge 
it  to  her.  A  really  enormous  sum  was  taken 


22  MRS  HARDEN 

for  programmes  and  albums.  The  Princess 
was  graciously  satisfied,  and  on  going  away 
one  of  the  two  Queens  said  to  Mrs  Marden  as 
she  was  dropping  her  curtsey,  "  How  clever  you 
are!  You  know  how  to  take  people." 

Mrs  Marden  drove  home  to  Hans  Place  quite 
intoxicated  with  charity.  It  had  gone  to  her 
head  like  strong  wine  drunk  in  a  revel. 

She  was  accompanied  by  a  friend,  no  other 
than  Lady  Mariana  Danvers,  the  most  popular 
programme  seller  in  London. 

When  they  reached  the  house  they  went  into 
the  drawing-room  to  have  tea  and  cigarettes  and 
to  talk  it  all  over. 

"  It  really  is  extraordinary  how  the  war  has 
brought  people  out,  isn't  it,  Mari?  "  said  Mrs 
Marden,  as  she  sank  into  a  deep  armchair,  after 
taking  off  her  hat  almost  carelessly — in  the  in- 
toxication— and  looking  at  her  hair  in  the  glass. 
"  I  never  knew  what  I  had  in  me  till  the  guns 
began  to  go.  And  the  more  I  work  the  more 
energetic  I  feel.  I  shouldn't  mind  having  a 
matinee  every  day  in  the  week.  And  you  are 
untiring  too.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do 
without  you.  How  much  did  you  make  to-day?  " 

'  Twenty  pounds  more  than  anyone  else," 
said  '  Mari '  with  a  negligent  air.  '  There  were 
a  lot  of  funny  people  from  the  Midlands  in 


23 


the  stalls.  Poor  dears!  I  think  I  took  their 
last  halfpennies." 

"Did  they  know  who  you  were?" 

"  Oh  yes.  They  live  on  the  picture  papers. 
What  minds  they  must  have!  I  heard  one 
of  them — a  man  of  course — saying  '  Isn't  she 
a  corker? '  as  I  trod  on  his  toes  on  my  way  to 
the  stage  box.  Those  are  the  people  to  get 
money  from.  I  can  recognise  them  at  a  glance 
now." 

'War  develops  us  all  wonderfully!"  said 
Mrs  Marden.  "  I  never  felt  so  alive  as  I  do 
now.  But  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  the 
matinee  at  the  Alhambra.  Don't  you  think 
it  would  be  a  good  idea  if  we  were  all  in 
Watteau  dresses  and  powder  for  it?  You  would 
look  quite  wonderful  in  powder,  such  a  dainty 
rogue!  And  it  suits  me  remarkably  well.  To 
distinguish  me  from  the  programme  sellers  I 
thought  of  carrying " 

At  this  moment  the  butler  opened  the  door 
and  came  in  with  a  salver  on  which  lay  a 
telegram. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it's  from  the  Princess," 
said  Mrs  Marden,  as  she  took  it.  "  She  told 
me  she  might  want  to  see  me  to-night  about  the 
takings.  I  daresay  she  wishes  me  to  dine 
at " 


24  MRS  HARDEN 

While  speaking  she  had  opened  the  telegram 
and  looked  at  it.  She  did  not  finish  her 
sentence,  but  sat  quite  still  with  it  in  her  hand 
and  her  eyes  fixed  on  it. 

"Any  answer,  Ma'am?"  said  the  butler. 

"  No — no   answer,"   said   Mrs   Marden. 

He  went  out.  She  got  up  and  stood  still  by 
the  tea  table.  There  was  something  strangely 
rigid  in  her  attitude. 

"  Is  it  bad  news?  "  said  Lady  Mariana. 

4  Yes.    My  boy  has  been  killed  in  action. 

"Oh  Evelyn— how  awful!" 
,     "Yes,  isn't  it?" 

"My  dear— shall  I  go?" 

•"  Yes,  please." 

•"  But  can't  I  do- 

"No.  It's  official— from  the  War  Office. 
Good-bye,  Mari."  She  pressed  the  bell. 

"Hanson,  will  you  call  a  cab?" 

Her  friend  looked  at  her  hard,  then,  without 
going  near  her,  turned  away  and  went  out  of 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  II 

WHEN  she  was  left  alone  Mrs  Harden  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  at  the  telegram.  She 
felt  dull  and  weak  but  not  actively  miserable. 
Her  mind  was  scarcely  working  at  all,  but  she 
was  conscious  of  a  strange  and  unusual  feeble- 
ness of  body.  This  had  come  upon  her  abruptly 
when  she  read  the  telegram.  She  said  to  her- 
self, "  Ronald  has  gone — disappeared  from  me 
for  ever.  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  I  shall 
never  hear  his  voice.  We  shall  never  have 
another  talk,  never  laugh  at  a  joke  together, 
never  dine  at  a  restaurant  and  visit  a  theatre 
together  again."  She  said  this,  but  she  did  not 
thoroughly  realise  its  truth.  It  was  as  if  she 
were  telling  herself  something  in  order  to  make 
herself  believe  it.  But  her  mind  was  reluctant 
or  stupid,  and  refused  to  grasp  anything.  The 
feebleness  of  body  increased  upon  her,  and  she 
took  hold  of  the  mantelpiece,  leaned  against  it, 
then  sat  down  in  an  armchair.  Several  re- 
membrances were  jumbled  confusedly  in  her 
mind;  the  Watteau  project  for  the  Alhambra 
matinee, — Mari  getting  money  out  of  the  funny 

25 


MRS  MARDEN 


people  from  the  Midlands,  her  own  wanderings 
along  the  stalls  of  the  Coliseum,  the  Queen's 
remark  to  her  when  she  made  her  curtsey. 

Then  she  seemed  to  quit  the  theatrical  scene 
and  to  be  in  church,  looking  up  at  the  melan- 
choly clergyman.  She  heard  again,  mentally, 
his  words :  "  We  must  welcome  the  war  ".  And 
then  she  seemed  to  hear  Ronald  saying,  "  I  have 
a  charmed  life ".  It  was  all  very  absurd. 
Ronald,  the  clergyman,  Lady  Mariana  in 
powder  and  a  Watteau  dress  stood  together 
and  looked  at  her.  Presently  she  heard  a  voice 
saying,  "  Ronald  is  working  in  his  way  and 
I  am  working  in  mine  ".  It  was  her  own  voice. 
But  Ronald  was  not  working.  His  work  was 
over. 

She  glanced  about  the  drawing-room,  and  her 
eyes  fell  on  her  hat,  which  she  had  laid  down 
on  a  small  table  of  inlaid  wood  near  the  window. 
She  looked  at  it  steadily.  It  was  a  large  hat 
—large  hats  suited  her — black  and  green  in 
colour,  turned  up  at  one  side,  with  an  aigrette 
in  the  front.  She  thought  it  looked  grotesque, 
almost  monstrous.  It  was  too  large  for  any 
woman.  It  was  meretricious,  flamboyant.  It 
was  an  ugly,  ridiculous  thing.  Why  did  people 
wear  hats  at  all?  There  was  no  sense  in  it.  She 
almost  began  to  laugh  as  she  looked  at  it.  Then 


27 


she  felt  angry,  enraged.  Somehow  she  con- 
nected the  hat  with  Ronald  in  her  mind.  He 
had  been  fighting  while  she  had  been  buying 
hats — that  ridiculous  hat  among  them.  He  had 
been  dying  while  she  had  been  dressing  up. 
He  had  been  dying — how?  How  had  he  died? 
The  telegram  did  not  tell  her.  But  anyhow  he 
was  dead — and  there  was  the  hat  lying  on  the 
table,  a  symbol  of  the  way  in  which  she  had 
done  her  bit. 

Suddenly  she  felt  a  great  loathing  of  herself. 
It  was  unreasonable,  no  doubt,  but  she  was  not 
a  reasonable  being  at  this  moment.  She  looked 
at  her  war  life  and  she  hated  it.  She  could 
no  longer  comprehend  how  she  had  been  able 
to  lead  it  while  her  boy  was  fighting  in  France. 
And  she  had  written  to  him  about  it,  had 
described  her  activities;  had  made  the  most  of 
them.  And  he  had  responded  with  generous 
praise  of  her.  He  had  written  "  It's  good  to 
hear  you  are  hard  at  work  ".  Hard  at  work 
in  that  hat! 

She  got  up  and  went  towards  the  hat.  She 
intended  to  do  something — she  was  not  sure 
what — but  at  this  moment  the  butler  opened 
the  door.  She  stood  still.  He  came  in  to 
clear  away  the  tea.  As  he  was  about  to  go 
out  of  the  room  with  it  he  said, 


MRS  MARDEN 


'  You  will  be  at  home  to  dinner,  Ma'am?  " 
"  I  shall  be  at  home,  but  I  don't  want  any 

dinner  to-night." 

The  man  looked  astonished. 

"  I've    had    bad    news,    Hanson,"    she    said. 

"  Mr  Ronald  has  been  killed  in  France." 

The  tray  shook  in  the  butler's  hands  and  the 

china  rattled. 

"Oh    Madam!"    he    said.      "Oh,    I'm   very 

grieved !    I  was  fond  of  Mr  Ronald !  " 

'  Thank  you,  Hanson.    Well,  we  must  bear 

these  things  somehow." 

"  Yes,  Madam.  I'm  very  sorry- 
He  paused.  Then  he  ejaculated, 
"  Shocking!  Shocking!  "  in  what  seemed  to 

his  mistress  a  voice  strangely  human,  strangely 

unlike  a  butler's  voice. 

And  then  he  went  out  very  slowly,  stooping 

more  than  usual  over  the  tray. 

"  Poor  Hanson!  "  thought  Mrs  Marden.     "  I 

had  no  idea  he  was  fond  of  Ronald." 

She  felt  very  sorry  for  the  man.     He  was 

probably  in  the  servants'  hall  by  now  and  was 

telling  the  other  servants  all  about  it. 

A  clock  on  the  chimney  piece  struck  the  half 

hour  after   six.     The   sound   reminded  her  of 

the  passage  of  time,  but  not  of  its  swiftness,  of 

its  slowness.    A  gigantic  vacancy  stretched  be- 


ROBERT  HICHENS  29 

fore  her — life.  She  had  really  loved  nobody 
in  the  world  but  Ronald.  Evidently  she  was  a 
woman  with  a  small  heart:  there  had  only  been 
room  in  it  for  one  human  being.  That  was 
bad  luck  for  her  now.  It  meant  that  she  had 
no  one  to  turn  to.  And  she  knew  such  shoals 
of  people.  The  posts  brought  her  quantities  of 
letters  and  notes.  Swarms  of  visitors  came  to 
her  door.  When  she  went  about  she  was  per- 
petually nodding  and  smiling,  stopping  to  say 
a  few  words  to  one  or  another.  And  all  this 
had  meant  practically  nothing.  What  on  earth 
was  she  going  to  do? 

The  room  presently  began  to  grow  dim.  The 
hat  on  the  table  became  a  dark  shape.  Night 
was  gathering  London  into  its  blackness. 

"  Well,  we  must  bear  these  things  somehow." 
She  had  said  that  to  Hanson.  The  question 
was  how.  How  was  she  going  to  bear  this 
particular  thing?  What  was  she  going  to  do? 
She  did  not  even  know  how  she  was  to  manage 
to  get  through  this  evening.  And  then  there 
would  be  the  night.  Well,  she  had  better  go 
upstairs  and  take  off  her  smart  gown,  the  gown 
which  had  gone  with  the  hat. 

She  could  not  bring  herself  to  touch  the  hat. 
So  she  left  it  lying  on  the  table  and  went  slowly 
upstairs.  She  shivered  when  she  came  to  her 


30  MRS  HARDEN 

bedroom.  As  she  opened  the  door  she  heard 
someone  moving  about  inside.  It  was  her 
maid,  Henriette.  As  she  went  in  the  maid 
turned  sharply, 

"  Ah !  ma  pauvre  Madame—      "  she  began. 

But  Mrs  Marden  interrupted  her. 

"  Merci,  Henriette.  C'est  triste  mais  il  n'y 
a  rien  a  faire.  Vous  pouvez  vous  en  aller." 

"  Mais,   Madame  me  permettra " 

"  Je  n'ai  besoin  de  rien.    Je  veux  etre  seule." 

When  the  maid  was  gone  Mrs  Marden  locked 
herself  into  the  room.  She  took  off  her  gown 
and  put  on  a  silk  dressing  gown  and  slippers. 
Then  she  lay  on  a  sofa  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
and  shut  her  tearless  eyes.  She  had  not  the 
least  inclination  to  weep.  She  was  quite  mistress 
of  herself.  Indeed  she  felt  if  anything  calmer 
than  usual,  abnormally  calm.  It  was  easy  to 
her  to  lie  perfectly  still  with  her  head  on  the 
large  cushion. 

As  she  lay  there  she  wondered  why  it  was 
that  she  had  not  missed  Ronald  more  while  he 
had  been  away.  She  had  often  missed  him. 
Many  times  she  had  worried  about  him  terribly. 
Nevertheless  she  had  been  able  to  enjoy  her 
activities,  to  be  proud  of  her  poor  little  suc- 
cesses, to  throw  herself  with  ardour  into  her 
work.  Her  hours  with  the  dressmakers  had 


ROBERT  HICHENS  31 

been  pleasant  hours.  In  the  theatres  she  had 
been  conscious  of  excitement,  of  many  an  agree- 
able thrill  of  gratified  vanity.  That  very  after- 
noon for  quite  a  long  time  she  had  not  thought 
of  Ronald  at  all.  That  was  a  simple  fact.  It 
surely  ought  to  have  meant  indifference.  And 
yet  it  had  not.  Her  heart  must  have  been 
with  her  boy  all  the  time  since  she  cared  really 
for  nobody  else.  She  had  "  counted "  on  his 
return.  That  was  it.  His  absolute  confidence 
had  infected  her.  And  now  this  was  the  end. 
But  it  was  the  beginning,  too.  That  was  the 
terrible  thing.  It  was  the  beginning  of  her 
new  life.  She  was  born  that  evening  into  a 
new  existence,  that  of  the  woman  who  has  no 
child.  Everything  must  be  different  for  her 
henceforth  as  long  as  she  lived. 

More  than  one  woman  whom  she  knew  had 
lost  a  son  in  the  war.  She  remembered  writing 
letters  of  sympathy  to  Lady  Terrerton,  to  Milli- 
cent  Ashton,  to  Enid  Vaux,  and  some  others. 
She  had  even  attended  a  memorial  service  at 
St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields  for  the  Terrertons' 
boy,  who  had  been  rather  a  pal  of  Ronald's. 
And  now  a  similar  disaster  had  come  upon  her. 
After  the  memorial  service  Diana  Terrerton  had 
written  her  a  letter  in  which  had  occurred  these 
words:  "I  feel  Willie  is  near  me  still.  I  am 


32  MRS  HARDEN 

often  conscious  of  his  presence  and  of  his 
desire  to  communicate  with  me.  This  is  a 
greater  comfort  than  you  can  imagine.  At  the 
very  moment  of  his  death  I  seemed  to  see  him 
standing  beside  me  like  a  shadow,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  mine.  I  knew  he  had  passed  over 
before  the  telegram  came.  But  we  are  still 
together.  He  knows  everything  I  do.  We  are 
not  really  separated.  I  am  convinced  that  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  separation  for  those  as 
closely  united  by  love  as  Willie  and  I  have 
always  been." 

Mrs  Marden  recalled  all  the  sense  of  that 
letter  while  she  lay  still  on  the  sofa.  When 
she  had  received  it  she  had  thought  that  Lady 
Terrerton  was  the  dupe  of  her  desire,  like  so 
many  others.  She  had  not  believed  that  there 
was  "  anything  in  it ".  Men  did  not  often 
think  such  things  probably  because  they  had 
masculine  hearts.  Once  she  had  talked  to 
Ronald  about  communication  with  the  dead 
and  he  had  begged  her  not  to  get  among  those 
who  went  "  in  for  that  unutterable  rot ". 

Ronald  had  not  come  to  her  at  the  moment 
of  his  death.  Till  she  had  received  the  telegram 
from  the  War  Office  she  had  felt  exactly  as 
usual.  No  message  had  been  conveyed  to  her 
telepathically. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  33 

She  tried  to  be  quite  sincere  with  herself, 
and  presently  she  knew  that  she  did  not  as  yet 
realise  Ronald's  death.  She  was  horribly  aware 
of  it  and  yet  somehow  she  had  not  got  hold  of 
it  as  a  definite,  dreadful  fact.  The  reality  of 
the  difference  in  her  life  was  not  at  all  fully 
apprehended  by  her.  Even  Hanson  had  seemed 
more  moved  by  the  news  than  she  had  been. 
And  he  was  only  the  butler. 

She  tried  to  realise  Ronald's  death  more  fully. 
Remembering  Lady  Terrerton's  letter  she 
tried  to  think  of  her  son  as  translated  to 
another  world,  as  no  longer  the  prisoner  of  the 
body,  but  able  to  do  what  the  soul  in  the  body 
cannot  do.  Was  he,  perhaps,  with  her  now 
unseen,  unheard,  impalpable?  Did  he  know 
she  was  half  stunned  by  the  blow  she  had  re- 
ceived, and  did  he  wish  to  comfort  her?  She 
tried  to  feel  him  in  the  room  with  her,  but 
she  did  not  succeed.  Nothing  came  of  her 
effort.  In  church  she  had  said  to  herself,  "  I 
am  not  religious  and  I  can't  be  religious.  Now 
she  said,  "  I  am  not  imaginative  and  I  can't 
be  imaginative.  And  that  sort  of  thing  is  all 
imagination.  People  are  determined  to  be- 
lieve that  there  is  no  separation  brought  about 
by  death.  They  must  create  comfort  for  them- 
selves. But  death  is  really  complete  separa- 


34  MRS  HARDEN 

tion.  Ronald  and  I  are  in  two  different  worlds 
— if  there  is  another  world.  We  can  never  get 
near  to  each  other." 

Really  she  felt  that  her  boy  was  in  France 
with  earth  heaped  over  him.  But  even  this 
she  felt  with  a  certain  vagueness. 

Night  fell.  The  fire  crackled  on  the  hearth 
and  threw  leaping  shadows  on  the  wall.  Pres- 
ently there  was  a  soft  knock  on  the  door.  Mrs 
Marden  heard  it  but  did  not  answer.  It  was 
repeated  twice.  Then  there  was  an  odd  little 
sound,  then  silence. 

After  a  few  minutes  she  sat  up,  leaned  for- 
ward and  looked  towards  the  door.  Two  let- 
ters, or  notes,  had  been  pushed  under  it  and 
lay  on  the  carpet.  She  got  up  and  opened 
them.  Both  had  come  by  hand.  One  was 
from  the  Duchess  of  Brancaster,  Lady  Mari- 
ana's mother.  The  other  was  from  Lady 
Terrerton. 

"  My  dearest  Evelyn,  Stella  Brancaster  has 
just  told  me " 

It  was  quite  a  long  letter.  Mrs  Marden 
did  not  read  it.  Nor  did  she  read  the  Duchess's 
note.  She  put  both  down  on  her  dressing- 
table,  made  up  the  fire,  undressed  and  got 
into  bed.  She  felt  unusually  cold  in  her  body, 
and  pulled  the  eiderdown  up  to  her  chin. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  35 

And  then  she  lay  there  with  her  eyes  wide 
open. 

After  a  long  time  she  heard  two  more  gentle 
knocks,  and  then  the  voice  of  Henriette  say, 
"Madame!  Madame!"  She  held  her  breath. 
Silence  again!  The  silence  of  the  long  night! 
She  was  in  her  big  bed  and  Ronald  was  closed 
up  in  a  box  hidden  under  French  earth.  She 
had  not  uttered  a  prayer.  Was  she  an  un- 
natural mother?  No  tears,  no  prayers.  Only 
one  thing  marked  the  day  as  a  special  occasion. 
She  had  had  no  dinner.  That  was  her  only 
tribute  to  Ronald's  great  sacrifice.  Well,  that 
was  not  her  fault.  She  could  not  be  other  than 
she  was. 

She  thought,  nevertheless,  about  prayer.  But 
she  still  had  the  feeling  which  had  obsessed  her 
in  church.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  imagine 
a  Being  who  had  the  capacity  to  be  aware  of 
the  existence  of  each  individual  in  the  swarm- 
ing world,  of  a  Being  who  sowed  the  firma- 
ment with  worlds  and  who  yet  could  pay  at- 
tention to  a  woman  in  bed  in  Hans  Place.  Did 
anyone  really  believe  that,  with  never  an  as- 
sailing doubt,  never  a  moment  when  the  inner 
voice  said,  "  But  that  is  simply  impossible.  My 
reason,  even  my  instinct,  rejects  it! "  Did  that 
melancholy  looking  clergyman  believe  it?  Did 


36  MRS  HARDEN 

the  Bishop  of  London,  the  Archbishop  of  West- 
minster believe  it? 

"  And  yet  I  have  heard  that  they  sometimes 
pray  for  rain,"  she  thought. 

Suddenly  she  remembered  the  controversy 
about  the  angels  of  Mons.  And  she  said  to 
herself,  "  People  will  believe  anything — even 
soldiers."  "  People  "  —but  she  was  not  in  that 
crowd.  She  had  never  before  felt  herself  to  be 
so  truly  individual  as  she  did  to-night,  so  defin- 
itely and  absolutely  separated  from  all  her 
fellow  beings,  and  especially  from  her  fellow 
Mothers.  She  knew  she  was  outside  of  that 
fellowship  of  mourners.  If  she  mourned  she 
would  mourn  in  her  own  way.  If!  She  was 
scarcely  mourning  now. 

The  fire  began  to  burn  low.  The  shadows 
contracted,  vanished  finally.  It  was  deep  in 
the  night,  but  she  felt  no  inclination  to  sleep. 
Yet  she  was  not  fidgety.  She  did  not  turn  on 
the  pillow.  She  lay  almost  as  still  as  Ronald 
was  lying  in  France.  And  the  emptiness  of 
the  world  came  upon  her  and  flooded  over  her. 
She  lay  in  the  void,  living  in  deadness.  That 
was  her  feeling,  that  she  was  uselessly  alive  in 
deadness. 

With  the  morning  came  the  necessity  for 
activity  of  some  kind.  Again  knocks  sounded 


ROBERT  HICHENS  37 

at  her  door;  and  this  time  she  got  up  and 
opened.  Henriette  was  there  looking  very 
anxious  and  enquiring,  with  a  tray  holding 
tea  and  bread  and  butter. 

"Has  Madame  slept?"  she  asked. 

"  I've  had  quite  a  good  night." 

She  got  back  into  bed  and  drank  the  tea  and 
ate  the  bread  and  butter,  on  Henriette's  ac- 
count. For  it  seemed  to  her  a  useless  thing  to 
do.  Meanwhile  Henriette  did  things  about 
the  room.  Presently  she  approached  the  bed 
and  asked,  in  an  unnatural  sort  of  voice, 

'  What  gown  will  Madame  wear  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"  Oh — something  black,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs 
Marden. 

The  maid's  thin  bird-like  face  looked  momen- 
tarily shocked.  She  murmured  something  about 
the  necessity  of  Madame  getting  some  "  mourn- 
ing." 

'  Yes,  I  shall  have  to  think  about  that," 
said  Mrs  Marden.  "  Put  out  anything  black 
and  then  you  can  leave  me." 

Henriette  obeyed,  and  finally  left  the  room 
with  a  backward  glance  that  suggested  fear. 
Then  Mrs  Marden  read  the  two  missives  that 
had  arrived  the  night  before.  Apparently  the 
morning's  post  was  not  in  yet  or,  if  it  was, 


38  MRS  HARDEN 

Henrietta  in  her  perturbation  had  forgotten 
to  bring  it. 

The  Duchess  of  Brancaster's  note  was 
simply  a  short,  but  very  kind,  almost  tender, 
note  of  condolence,  not  stereotyped,  truly  sym- 
pathetic, and  with  even  a  touch  of  originality. 
But  Lady  Terrerton's  letter  was  very  long, 
covering  several  sheets.  Mrs  Marden  read  it 
slowly  and  carefully,  and  then  re-read  it. 

It  was  an  offer  of  help.  Lady  Terrerton 
told  Mrs  Marden  that  she  could  help  her 
wonderfully,  bring  light  into  the  darkness  of 
bereavement,  show  her  the  way  to  reunion  with 
the  son  who  had  just  exchanged  this  earth 
life  for  a  higher  existence  on  another  plane. 

"  I  suffered  indescribable  anguish  when  my 
boy  was  killed,"  she  wrote.  "  No  words  can 
tell  you  what  I  went  through.  Life  was  in- 
supportable and  I  longed  for  death.  It 
seemed  to  me  utterly  impossible  that  my  misery 
could  ever  know  any  alleviation.  But  this 
lasted  only  a  very  short  time.  Very  soon,  as 
I  believe  I  wrote  to  you,  I  had  the  feeling  that 
Willie  was  still  near  me  and  was  trying  to 
get  into  communication  with  me.  He  seemed 
to  be  silently  urging  me  to  do  something.  At 
first  I  could  not  tell  what  it  was.  But  I  spoke 
of  it  to  a  dear  friend,  an  occultist,  and  she 


ROBERT  HICHENS  39 

was  able  to  put  me  in  the  right  way.  I  cannot 
explain  it  all  by  letter  but  I  beg  you  to  come 
to  see  me  or  let  me  come  and  see  you.  It 
only  requires  patience,  and  a  strong  effort  made 
with  the  right  people  and  in  the  right  surround- 
ings, and  a  bridge  can  be  formed  between  this 
earth  life  and  the  life  on  another  plane  in 
which  our  dear  ones  are  now  as  vital  as,  and 
far  more  happy  than,  they  ever  were  with  us. 
Do,  dearest  Evelyn,  take  my  words  seriously 
even  though  you  are  bowed  down  with  misery. 
Going  to  church  is  no  use.  I  have  tried  it. 
Clergymen  cannot  help  you  any  more  than 
they  helped  me.  But  there  is  a  way  to  peace, 
even  to  happiness,  and  I  have  found  it." 

Mrs  Marden  laid  the  letter  down  at  last  and 
thought  of  Ronald.  Of  course  she  realised  what 
Lady  Terrerton  meant.  Since  her  boy's  death 
she  had  disappeared  from  society  and  Mrs 
Marden  had  never  seen  her.  But  she  had 
heard  vaguely  that  Lady  Terrerton  was  given 
over  to  "  occult  practices ",  and  had  heard 
people  speak  of  her  as  a  "  poor  dear  thing ", 
who  had  become  quite  crazed  about  "  that 
ridiculous  spiritualism  ". 

And  that  sort  of  thing  was  just  what  Ronald 
had  hated  and  laughed  at  when  he  had  been 
alive.  She  herself  knew  very  little  more  about 


40  MRS  HARDEN 

it  than  he  did.  She  had  never  felt  the  slight- 
est interest  in  anything  of  that  kind.  The 
other  world  had  never  bothered  her,  and  she 
had  never  bothered  about  the  other  world.  This 
world  had  been  quite  enough  for  her  and  for 
Ronald.  And  even  now,  when  she  thought 
of  her  boy,  and,  in  imagination,  called  him  up 
before  her,  with  his  tall  straight  figure,  his 
merry  eyes,  and  his  rather  impertinent  gay 
expression,  the  expression  of  one  who  was 
ready  for  anything  in  the  way  of  fun  and 
larkiness,  she  could  scarcely  imagine  that  he 
was  out  of  it.  She  could  scarcely  conceive  of 
him  as  quite  still,  quite  grave,  quite  silent. 

"  Even  though  you  are  bowed  down  with 
misery,"  Lady  Terrerton  had  written. 

But  she  was  not  bowed  down  with  misery. 
She  wondered  at  herself.  Would  the  acute 
anguish  ever  come  to  her?  Would  the  tears 
never  gather  in  her  eyes,  the  sobs  never  rise 
in  her  throat? 

Presently  she  got  up,  made  her  toilet,  put 
on  the  black  gown,  took  the  two  letters  and 
went  downstairs.  It  was  half  past  nine.  She 
telephoned  to  her  sister  to  tell  her  the  news. 
Then  she  went  into  the  dining-room  mechan- 
ically to  breakfast  and  found  Hanson  there. 
He  looked  at  her  with  a  sort  of  submissive  and 


ROBERT  HICHEXS  41 

deprecating  curiosity.  She  bade  him  good 
morning  and  sat  down  at  the  oval  table  on 
which  several  letters  were  lying.  As  she  ate 
something — she  didn't  exactly  know  what — 
she  looked  at  them.  They  were  written  by 
people  who  didn't  know,  and  were  about  war 
matinees  and  kindred  subjects.  As  she  read 
them  she  felt  almost  sickened.  Two  were  about 
the  matinee  at  the  Alhambra.  And  there  was 
a  letter  from  the  Princess's  secretary  thanking 
her  for  what  she  had  done  on  the  previous 
day,  and  asking  her  to  go  with  H.R.H.  to 
visit  the  "  wounded  men  for  whom  you  have 
worked  so  hard." 

When  Mrs  Marden  had  finished  them  she 
got  up  from  the  breakfast  table. 

Since  she  had  begun  her  successful  war 
work  she  had  engaged  a  secretary,  who  came 
in  generally  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  morn- 
ings and  helped  her  with  her  correspondence. 
She  remembered  now  that  this  girl,  Miss  King, 
was  due  in  Hans  Place  at  eleven  o'clock  that 
morning.  She  had  not  thought  of  putting 
her  off,  so  of  course  she  would  come.  Better 
so!  She  could  deal  with  the  morning's  letters 
and  also  let  people  know  that  her  employer 
would  be  unable  to  help  at  any  more  matinee 
performances.  Meanwhile  Mrs  Marden  de- 


42  MRS  MARDEN 

cided  to  write  to  the  Duchess  of  Brancaster 
and  to  Lady  Terrerton. 

The  answer  to  the  Duchess  was  soon  finished. 
It  expressed  Mrs  Marden's  gratitude  and  sense 
of  her  great  loss,  and  was  written  mechanically. 
While  the  pen  moved  over  the  paper  she  felt 
cold  and  detached,  and  oddly  impersonal. 

'What  is  the  good  of  all  these  letters?  "  she 
thought.  'What  is  gained  by  them?  Why 
do  we  have  to  write  them?  " 

And  it  seemed  to  her  that  life  was  largely 
made  up  of  actions  which  were  wholly  unneces- 
sary, that  the  web  of  civilisation  was  full  of 
threads  which  merely  complicated  the  fabric, 
without  adding  to  its  beauty  or  even  to  its 
strength. 

After  addressing  the  letter  to  the  Duchess 
Mrs  Marden  took  another  sheet  of  paper  and 
prepared  to  answer  Lady  Terrerton.  But  this 
was  a  more  difficult  task  and  she  hesitated  be- 
fore beginning.  Lady  Terrerton's  letter  was 
evidently  written  straight  from  the  heart;  and 
was  a  warm  gush  of  feeling  which  had  flowed 
over  paper.  There  was  in  it  a  touching  sin- 
cerity, a  complete  absence  of  all  reserve.  The 
eagerness  to  help  a  sister  in  misery  was  ap- 
parent in  almost  every  line.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  be  touched  by  such  a  letter,  and  Mrs 


ROBERT  HICHENS  43 

Marden  was  in  some  degree  touched  by  it.  But 
she  said  to  herself,  "  Diana  Terrerton  is  the 
victim  of  an  illusion  and  she  wants  to  hand 
on  her  illusion  to  me.  That's  no  good."  There 
was  a  curious  obstinacy  lurking  in  her  nature 
that  day,  something  dull,  hard,  resistant.  The 
softness  of  grief  was  far  away  from  her. 

Well,  she  must  answer  Diana  Terrerton  some- 
how, and  get  it  over.  She  tried  to  think  clearly 
of  Ronald.  What  would  he  have  wished  her  to 
answer  to  such  a  letter?  She  could  almost 
hear  him  saying,  "  For  God's  sake  don't 
have  anything  to  do  with  all  that  rubbish, 
Mother."  And  her  lips  formed  the  words, 
"I  won't." 

She  wrote,  therefore,  and  refused  Lady  Ter- 
rerton's  offer  of  help.  "  I  don't  believe  in 
such  things,"  she  wrote.  "  I  think  the  dead 
should  be  left  in  peace." 

Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  if,  as  she  felt 
certain,  there  was  "  nothing  in  it "  the  dead 
were  left  in  peace,  whatever  Lady  Terrerton  and 
those  of  similar  credulity  did  in  an  endeavour 
to  disturb  them.  But — never  mind !  Let  it  go ! 
Her  letter  was  fairly  long  and  as  kind  and 
grateful  as  she  could  make  it.  She  had  just 
finished  it  when  Miss  King  was  announced. 

Miss  King  was  a  woman  of  twenty  eight,  who 


44  MRS  HARDEN 

looked  about  twenty  two,  although  she  was  not 
made  up  in  any  obvious  way.  Her  hair  was 
not  dyed;  her  face  was  not  painted;  her  eye- 
lashes and  eyebrows  were  not  "  touched  up  ". 
"  She  powders  her  face  and  then  rubs  it  off," 
had  been  Mrs  Marden's  silent  verdict  on  first 
seeing  her.  Yet  she  looked  six  years  younger 
than  she  was.  She  had  a  nice  trim  figure  that 
somehow  faintly  suggested  masculinity,  the 
maleness  of  a  neat  boy.  And  her  dress  and 
manners,  even  her  attitudes,  had  often  made 
Mrs  Marden  think  of  a  boy.  She  wore  a  white 
collar,  a  tie  and  cuffs,  short,  close  skirts,  black 
brogues  with  spats  over  them,  small  severe 
hats.  Her  gaze  was  direct  and  her  voice 
sounded  practical.  Mrs  Marden  knew  noth- 
ing whatever  of  her  private  life.  Her  Christian 
name  was  Emily.  Mrs  Marden  was  acquainted 
with  Miss  King,  but  had  never  had  anything  to 
do  with  Emily. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  King,"  said  Mrs 
Marden,  as  the  secretary  entered  the  room. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs  Marden,"  said  Miss 
King. 

She  walked  up  to  the  writing-table. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  indeed,"  she  said,  "  to  hear 
what  has  happened.  Please  allow  me  to  say 
how  grieved  I  am  for  you.  You  have  always 


ROBERT  HICHENS  45 

been  very  kind  to  me.  I  feel  the  deepest  sym- 
pathy." 

'  Thank  you.  I  am  sure  you  do.  Did  the 
butler  tell  you?  " 

'  Yes.  I  don't  know  whether  you  wish  me 
to  stay." 

"  I  do,  please.  Whatever  happens  to  us 
there  are  things  that  have  got  to  be  done. 
I  wonder  why!  " 

"Why!" 

'  Yes;  I  wonder  what  is  the  good  of  it  all." 

Miss  King  looked  down  at  her  spats. 

"  So  do  I — sometimes,"  she  said. 

Mrs  Marden  got  up  from  the  writing-table 
to  give  Miss  King  her  place. 

When  the  secretary  had  sat  down  Mrs 
Marden  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  she  said, 

"  Has  this  war  made  any  difference  in  your 
feelings  about  things,  Miss  King? " 

'  Yes ;  a  good  deal." 

Mrs  Marden  sat  down  in  an  armchair  near 
the  table. 

"  In  what  sort  of  way? " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  could  quite  explain." 

*  You  haven't — I  don't  want  to  be  intrusive, 
but  have  you  suffered  any  loss  in  this  war? " 

"  Oh  yes.  The  man  I  was  going  to  marry 
was  killed  two  months  ago." 


46  MRS  HARDEN 

Mrs  Marden  felt  tremendously  astonished; 
she  scarcely  knew  why.  It  had  never  occurred 
to  her  that  Miss  King  might  have  a  lover,  be 
engaged.  She  had  imagined  her  living  with  a 
girl  friend,  in  a  little  flat,  perhaps;  cooking 
nice  little  dishes  on  a  gas  stove;  smoking  cigar- 
ettes, being  thoroughly  independent.  She  had 
thought  of  Miss  King  as  a  rather  modern  type 
of  working  girl,  who  would  have  another  girl 
for  a  "  pal ",  and  would  not  bother  her  head 
about  men.  There  were  plenty  of  such  girls, 
she  understood. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  had  no  idea — 
what  was  he  ?  " 

"  A  dentist.  He  joined  up  on  the  first  day 
the  call  for  men  came." 

'  That  was  very  fine  of  him." 

"  Oh  yes.    But  he  was  that  sort  of  man." 

"  Have  you — have  you  ever  wished  he  had 
not  been?  " 

"  Two  or  three  times — at  night." 

Suddenly  Mrs  Marden  felt  tears  in  her  eyes. 
She  was  very  surprised,  and  wondered  vaguely 
where  they  had  come  from,  and  what  had 
brought  them. 

"  But  never  in  day  time,"  continued  Miss 
King.  "  One  can't  always  be  responsible  for 


ROBERT  HICHENS  47 

one's  feelings.  I  think  he  would  forgive  me  for 
my  few  treacheries." 

"Treacheries?" 

"  To  his  ideals,  I  mean." 

"A  dentist  with  ideals!"  thought  Mrs  Mar- 
den.  "  How  strange  it  all  is!  " 

"  I  wish,"  she  said,  "  if  it  is  not  hurting  you 
too  much  you  would  tell  me  something." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Miss  King. 

'  When  you  had  the  news  of — when  the  news 
came  did  you  feel  it  terribly?  Did  it  seem  to 
strike  you  down? " 

"  Oh  no.  I  mind  it  much  more  now,  more 
every  day,  I  think." 

A  dull  sensation  of  apprehension  flowed 
slowly  upon  Mrs  Marden. 

"  Grief  is  a  thing  that  grows,"  continued 
Miss  King,  "  at  least  that  is  my  experience." 

"Is  it?" 

"  Of  course  I  mean  real  grief  such  as  some 
people  seem  quite  incapable  of." 

'  Yes — I  see.  I  daresay  you  are  right.  Do 
you  live  alone  ?  " 

"  Quite  alone  in  rooms." 

Mrs  Marden  was  silent.  At  last  Miss  King 
said, 

'  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  this  morning, 
Mrs  Marden? " 


48  MRS  HARDEN 

With  an  effort  Mrs  Harden  came  out  of 
her  apparent  inertia.  She  dealt  with  the  let- 
ters of  the  day  and  directed  Hiss  King  to  write 
to  various  people  explaining  why  she  was 
unable  to  carry  out  her  work  in  connection  with 
the  theatres.  A  reply  to  the  Princess's  sec- 
retary expressed  her  regret  at  being  prevented 
from  visiting  the  hospital  at  present,  and  her 
satisfaction  that  she  had  been  able  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  wounded  soldiers  before  being 
obliged  to  give  up  everything  on  account  of  the 
loss  of  her  only  son. 

This  was  the  last  note  to  be  written.  When 
it  was  finished  Hrs  Harden  said  to  Hiss 
King, 

'  Will  you  give  it  me  to  read  over? " 

Hiss  King  handed  over  the  note  and  Hrs 
Harden  read  it  carefully.  Then  she  said, 

'  'Obliged  to  give  up  everything' — did  you 
give  up  when — when  your  trouble  came  ?  " 

"•  Oh  no." 

"Not  even  for  a  little  while?" 

"  Not  even  for  a  day.  I  have  to  earn  my 
living,  you  see." 

'  Yes.    I  wonder  what  I  had  better  do." 

Hiss  King  was  silent. 

'  What  I  have  been  doing  seems  to  me  so 
.absurd  now,"  continued  Hrs  Harden. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  49 

"  Somebody  must  do  it,  I  suppose,"  said 
Miss  King. 

'  Yes ;  that's  true.  I  had  promised  to  help 
at  several  more  matinees.  Do  you  think  I  ought 
to  do  so  in  spite  of  what  has  happened?  Do 
you  think  my  son  would  have  wished  it?" 

"  I  can't  tell  that- 

"  No ;  of  course  not.  I  suppose  these  let- 
ters had  better  go  to  the  post." 

"  Very  well." 

Mrs  Marden  gave  back  a  note,  and  Miss 
King  put  it  in  an  envelope  and  addressed  it. 

"  Is  there  nothing  more  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.  But  please  come 
to-morrow.  I — I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  a  great 
many  letters  of  condolence.  I  wish  people 
wouldn't  think  themselves  obliged  to  send  them. 
Of  course  it  is  kind,  but ' 

She  stopped.  Then  suddenly,  with  a  change 
of  manner,  she  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  how  foolish  my  sort  of  life  seems  now! 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  it.  But  I'm  not 
fit  for  anything  else.  I  don't  know  what  I 
am  going  to  do  now,  how  I  am  going  to  live. 
Miss  King,  do  tell  me,  how  do  you  manage  to 
get  along? " 

"How?" 

'  Yes;  do  you  go  to  church? " 


50  MRS  HARDEN 

"  Sometimes." 

"  Does  it  do  you  any  good?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  does.'* 

"  I  mean  do  you  believe  all  that  is  said  in 
church? " 

"  Oh  no.    But  does  anyone?  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  have  thought.  Do 
even  clergymen  really  believe  all  they  tell  us? 
Can  they?" 

"  I  don't  know.  It's  very  difficult  to  answer 
for  other  people,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Of  course.  I  heard  a  clergyman  say  that 
we  ought  to  welcome  this  war." 

'  Well,  I  doubt  if  anyone  can  do  that  sin- 
cerely." 

"  Some  people  go  to  spiritualists  instead  of 
going  to  church.  Do  you  believe  in  all 
that?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it.  My — the  man  I 
was  engaged  to  went  to  have  his  hand  read  be- 
fore he  left  England." 

"  Was  he  told  anything?  " 

'  Yes ;  that  he  would  come  back  safely." 

'  It's  all  utter  nonsense!"  said  Mrs  Marden. 
There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  Miss  King 
said, 

'  You  have  nothing  more  for  me  to  do 
to-day?" 


ROBERT  HICHENS  51 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  had  better  be  going." 

She  got  up,  with  her  boyish  air. 

"  I  do  hope  you  will  find  comfort  somehow," 
she  said. 

"  Thank  you." 

Mrs  Harden  held  out  her  hand. 

"And  I  hope  you  will,"  she  said. 

"I  always  try  to  make  the  best  of  things." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  do  the  same." 

When  Miss  King  had  gone  Mrs  Harden 
telephoned  to  a  dressmaker  and  ordered  some 
mourning.  Then  she  sat  down  to  read  the 
papers.  She  did  not  know  what  else  to  do. 

But  she  was  soon  interrupted.  The  tele- 
phone sounded  frequently.  Lady  Mariana  had 
been  spreading  the  news  of  Ronald  Marden's 
death,  and  kind  friends  were  enquiring.  Notes 
of  condolence  began  to  come  in.  Some  people 
called  to  enquire.  And  Mrs  Marden's  sister 
came  around  to  see  her  and  to  do  what  she 
could  to  help  her. 

The  energies  of  sympathy  were  set  in  active 
motion,  and  Mrs  Harden  was  obliged  to  cope 
with  them.  And  all  the  time  she  was  doing 
her  best  to  "  keep  a  brave  face  "  to  the  world 
she  was  thinking, 

"  Oh,  what  is  the  good  of  all  this? " 


CHAPTER  III 

"  OF  course  you  will  have  a  memorial  ser- 
vice for  dear  Ronald,"  said  Mrs  Marden's  sister, 
who  was  not  married,  to  her  three  days  later. 

"Do  you  think  I  ought  to,  Annie?"  said 
Mrs  Marden. 

Annie,  who  was  very  religious,  a  high  church 
Protestant,  looked  painfully  surprised. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  question  of  feeling,"  she 
said.  "  And  then  people  will  expect  it.  You 
see,  dear,  there  cannot  be  a  funeral  over  here. 
And  surely  you  would  wish  to  pay  a  last 
tribute  to  Ronald's  memory.  He  has  behaved 
so  nobly  and  laid  down  his  life  for  his  country." 

'  Yes.  He  gave  all  he  had  to  give.  But 
the  arrangements "  she  paused. 

After  an  instant  of  silence  she  continued, 

"  Annie,  perhaps  I  shall  shock  you  very 
much,  but  the  truth  is  I  am  not  a  religious 
woman.  It  isn't  my  fault." 

Annie,  who  was  small  and  pale,  with  blue 
eyes  that  looked  withered,  said, 

"But  you  believe,  don't  you?" 

"I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  I  do." 

52 


ROBERT  HICHENS  53 

"  Of  course  I  know  that  you  don't  feel  quite 
as  I  do  about  these  things,  but  still— 

"  I  daresay  you  are  right.  Where  shall  I 
have  it? " 

"  St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields  is  very  central." 

'  Yes ;  that's  true.      I  might  have  it  there." 

"  Lady  Terrerton  had  a  memorial  service 
for  her  boy." 

"Yes.     I  will  have  one  for  Ronald." 

"  Shall  I  see  about  it,  dear? " 

"  No,  Annie.  I  will  look  after  it  all.  Ought 
I  to  go  to  it  myself?  " 

"If  you  think  you  can  bear  to.  Lady 
Terrerton  went." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  I  have  met  Madame  Antoinette  Sims. 
Perhaps  she  would  sing  a  solo  at  it.  Shall  I 
ask  her? " 

"  It  would  be  very  kind  of  her.  Very  well. 
I'll  get  Miss  King  to  help  me  with  all  the 
arrangements." 

"And  I'll  help  you  too.  I  know  just  how 
you  feel." 

"No,  you  don't.  Nobody  does,"  thought 
Mrs  Marden. 

The  memorial  service  for  Ronald  was  ar- 
ranged. It  took  place  on  a  foggy  morning, 
and  Mrs  Marden  attended  it.  She  drove  to 


54  MRS  HARDEN 

the  church  with  her  sister.  As  she  got  out  of 
the  car  and  ascended  the  steps  the  fog  seemed 
to  be  walking  with  her,  dulling  her  senses, 
laying  a  soft,  clammy  hand  on  her  heart.  The 
church  held  a  large  congregation.  There  were 
many  more  women  than  men.  As  Mrs  Mar- 
den  walked  to  her  place  all  eyes  were  turned 
towards  her.  She  entered  the  front  pew  and 
knelt  down.  People  thought  she  was  praying, 
but  she  was  not.  Presently  she  got  up.  A 
printed  form  of  the  service  had  been  provided. 
She  took  it  in  her  hand  and  looked  carefully 
at  it. 

"  I  wonder  if  Miss  King  is  here,"  she  thought. 
"  She  did  not  have  a  memorial  service  for  her 
lover.  But  then  people  like  that  don't  have 
to,  I  suppose.  And  it  makes  no  difference." 

The  service  began.  It  was  really  rather  beau- 
tiful and  touched  many  people.  Mrs  Marden, 
however,  listened  to  it  with  a  sense  of  almost 
cold  detachment  until,  after  a  short  pause,  the 
organist  played  a  prelude,  and  from  the  gal- 
lery, high  up  and  behind  her,  a  great  contralto 
voice,  firm,  resonant,  yet  pathetic,  began  to 
sing  a  new  setting  of  Newman's  "  Lead, 
Kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom." 

The  words,  the  music,  the  great  voice,  which 
was  supported  by,  and  blended  with,  the  deep 


ROBERT  HICHENS  55 

and  soft  glories  of  the  organ,  pushed  a  way 
down  into  something  which  was  part  of  her, 
or  which  was  perhaps  her — her  soul.  First  her 
intellect  said,  "  These  are  noble  words."  Then 
her  heart  said,  "  They  came  from  a  beautiful, 
loving,  trusting  heart."  Then  somebody  else 
said,  "  Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy !  "  And  she  be- 
gan to  weep.  Tears  streamed  from  her  eyes 
and  over  her  face.  Her  body  shook,  and  sud- 
denly she  longed  to  be  alone  with  her  mother- 
hood. It  was  terrible  to  be  in  public,  sur- 
rounded by  all  these  people,  who  knew  nothing 
of  her  grief,  whom  she  wished  to  know  nothing 
of  it.  If  she  could  only  be  by  herself  with  that 
voice  and  with  the  memory  of  her  baby  boy, 
for  whom  she  had  suffered,  and  whom  she  had 
lost!  She  sat  down  very  quietly.  She  was 
wearing  a  veil  which  she  had  pushed  up  when 
she  looked  at  the  form  of  prayer.  Now  she 
pulled  it  down.  The  great  voice  continued. 
Presently  she  heard  it  almost  murmuring  be- 
hind her,  with  an  intimate,  indeed  a  secret, 
humanity;  a  sort  of  withdrawn  confidence. 
'  Which  I  have  loved  long  since 

And  lost — awhile." 

"But  is  it,  can  it  be  so?"  she  thought, 
"  He  believed  it.  Newman  believed  it.  He 
could  never  have  written  that  if  he  had  not 


56  MRS  HARDEN 

believed  it.  But  I  am  so  different.  And  the 
belief  of  even  a  great  man  proves  nothing  at 
all." 

She  was  able  to  think  that  in  the  midst 
of  her  tears,  as  if  her  intellect  were  still  quite 
aloof  from  her  heart  which  was  rent  and  her 
soul  which  was  yearning. 

"  Is  there  a  morn?  Or  is  this  life  in  the 
night  all?" 

The  organ  died  away.  And  presently  the 
service  continued.  She  knelt  no  more.  She 
just  sat  still  with  her  veil  hiding  her  face 
till  all  was  over.  Then  her  sister  touched 
her. 

"  Darling — Evelyn   dear,   we   must   go." 

She  got  up,  picked  up  her  black  gloves 
which  she  had  taken  off  at  the  beginning  of 
the  service,  and  went  out  of  the  pew.  The 
congregation  standing  watched  her  going  while 
the  organist  played  an  arrangement  of  an 
Agnus  Dei  by  Bach.  But  just  as  she  was 
nearing  the  church  door  a  thin  woman  in  black, 
with  a  white  ravaged  face  and  dark  eyes  that 
looked  as  if  they  had  wept  many  tears,  stepped 
quickly  out  of  the  last  pew  on  her  left,  and 
took  gently  hold  of  her  arm. 

It  was  Lady  Terrerton. 

went  out  of  the  church  together.    Un- 


ROBERT  HICHENS  57 

der  the  portico  Lady  Terrerton  said,  in  an  earn- 
est husky  voice,  that  was  tremulous  with  feel- 
ing, 

"  Forgive  me,  Evelyn!  I  couldn't  help  it.  I 
want  you  to  come  and  see  me,  or  to  let  me 
come  and  see  you.  Our  boys  were  friends." 

"  Yes." 

"Will  you  come?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Promise  me !  I  can  help  you.  I  must 
help  you.  We  ought  to  hand  on  our  blessings 
in  these  awful  times.  It  is  wicked  not  to." 

"  Our  blessings? " 

'  Yes,  yes.  Oh,  you  will  be  so  happy  pres- 
ently! Come  to  me  to-morrow." 

"  Perhaps." 

"No,   no " 

"  Anyhow  I  will  come  soon." 

Then  she  went  down  to  her  car  and  was 
driven  away  in  the  fog. 

After  that  service  things  were  altered  for  Mrs 
Marden.  She  had  wept  at  last  after  the  days 
and  the  nights  of  dry  and  tearless  waiting. 
The  unnatural  stunned  feeling  left  her.  She 
entered  into  her  grief.  She  who  had  seemed 
strong,  almost  hard,  to  those  about  her,  who 
had  astonished  and  perturbed  her  servants  by 
her  self-possession,  her  activity,  who  had  sat 


58  MRS  HARDEN 

reading  the  papers  as  usual,  dealing  with  her 
letters,  who  had  stood  at  the  telephone  person- 
ally answering  enquiries,  who  had  seen  several 
intimate  acquaintances  and  spoken  quietly  to 
them  of  her  loss,  who,  with  Miss  King's  help, 
had  arranged  all  the  details  of  the  memorial  ser- 
vice, was  now  what  is  called  "  a  broken  woman." 
She  shut  herself  up  in  her  house.  She  would 
not  see  even  her  sister.  She  refused  to  meet 
Miss  King,  and  wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper, 
"  Please  deal  with  all  letters  in  the  way  you 
think  best.  But  don't  ask  me  what  to  do. 
I  cannot  attend  to  anything.  Refuse  me  to 
everybody.  Say  I  am  ill."  Her  only  conso- 
lation was  solitude,  the  knowledge  that  no 
one  would  look  at  her,  that  she  would  not  have 
to  make  any  effort,  or  act  any  part.  (Her 
meals  were  put  on  the  table  and  she  would 
not  have  Hanson  in  the  room  when  she  ate 
them.  The  servants,  except  Henriette,  only 
caught  occasional  glimpses  of  her.  And  to 
Henriette  she  scarcely  spoke  except  to  give 
necessary  orders. 

So  things  continued  for  more  than  a  week. 
During  that  time  a  letter  came  from  Ronald's 
Colonel.  It  gave  details  of  his  death  and 
burial.  He  had  been  shot  through  the  head 
and  had  died  instantaneously.  His  body  had 


ROBERT  HICHENS  59 

not  fallen  into  the  enemy's  hands,  and  had 
been  buried  near  the  field  of  battle.  The 
funeral  service  had  been  read.  All  had  been 
done  in  due  order.  The  Colonel  wrote  warmly 
of  Ronald,  and  dwelt  specially  on  his  cheerful- 
ness of  spirit. 

"  His  gaiety  was  unconquerable,"  he  wrote. 
"  It  seemed  part  of  his  nature  and  was  never 
damped  by  untoward  circumstances.  It  cheered 
us  all  up  and  gave  courage  to  his  men.  Those 
who  saw  him  die  say  that  he  died  with  a  smile 
on  his  lips.  I  can  well  believe  it.  We  miss 
him  terribly.  He  was  the  very  spirit  of  youth. 
As  to  his  courage — well,  he  never  seemed  to 
realise  the  possibility  of  death." 

How  like  Ronald  that  was — the  not  realising ! 
He  had  thought  death  could  not  take  him,  and 
she  had  come  to  think  the  same.  They  had 
been  as  blind  children,  both  of  them.  "  Not 
for  me  death!  Not  for  me  agony!  All  the 
bad  things  for  others,  all  the  joys  and  the  good 
things  for  us! " 

And  so  she  was  only  suited  to  live  in  the 
shining  and  not  in  the  blackness.  She  had  de- 
veloped only  that  part  of  her  which  was  fitted 
for  the  light  side  of  life,  and  had  never  given 
any  thought  to  a  preparation  of  the  soul  against 
the  evil  day.  Therefore  she  was  a  woman  with- 


60  MRS  HARDEN 

out  moral   armour   and   now   she  was   pitiable 
even  in  her  own  eyes. 

In  the  nakedness  of  her  desolation  a  strange 
and  hideous  desire  sometimes  obsessed  her.  She 
wished  that  she  could  believe  in  a  God  as  many 
people,  perhaps  most  people,  did;  in  a  per- 
sonal, attentive  God,  keeping  an  eternal  watch 
over  individuals,  presiding  over  their  lives,  al- 
lowing everything  that  happened  to  them  to 
happen,  in  order  that  she  might  hate  Him  for 
depriving  her  of  the  only  human  being  whom 
she  was  able  to  love.  It  seemed  to  her  in  her 
misery  that  most  people  who  were  religious 
worshipped  God  because  they  were  afraid  of 
Him,  like  savages  seeking  to  propitiate  a  power- 
ful and  malign  Being,  who  could  if  He  wished 
overwhelm  them  with  disaster  and  who  was 
capable  of  doing  this  if  the  whim  took  Him. 
The  words  "  Thy  will  be  done "  expressed, 
she  thought,  a  grovelling  attitude  of  mind  with 
which  she  could  never  be  in  sympathy.  She 
preferred  what  many  think  the  supreme  blas- 
phemy of  Omar  Khayyam,  in  which  man's  for- 
giveness of  God  is  alluded  to.  There  was 
something  tremendous  in  that,  something  proud, 
defiant,  and  unconquerably  fearless.  But  both 
the  resignation  and  the  blasphemy  presupposed 
a  conception  of  the  mysterious  Creator  which 


ROBERT  HICHENS  61 

she  had  not  and  was  certain  she  could  never 
have.  Yet  why  was  it  that  Newman's  hymn 
had  broken  down  all  the  barriers  and  made 
her  understand  the  true  meaning  of  her  loss? 
Why  had  she  at  last  begun  to  weep  when  she 
had  heard  it?  Who  could  believe  in  a  Kindly 
Light  in  the  midst  of  this  war,  in  angel  faces 
smiling  and  all  the  rest  of  it?  All  that  was  sheer 
sentimentalism ;  beautifully  expressed,  no  doubt, 
because  the  man  who  wrote  it  happened  to 
possess  an  exquisite  literary  gift,  and  sincerely 
to  believe  in  what  he  was  expressing.  She  was 
angry  with  herself  for  having  been  moved  by 
words  which  she  told  herself  now  were  all 
nonsense.  There  must  be,  she  thought,  a  core 
of  folly  in  her  as  there  was  in  most  people 
whom  she  knew.  Humanity  has  always 
stretched  out  its  hands  to  idols,  laid  offerings 
before  altars  to  which  no  Presence  ever  draws 
near. 

She  was  crudely  rebellious  in  her  agony  and 
had  nothing  to  rebel  against  because  of  her 
agnosticism.  She  was  like  one  who  wishes  to 
deal  a  blow  and  is  confronted  by  an  atmosphere. 
During  all  these  days  she  felt  savagely  alone. 
She  knew  that  multitudes  of  women  in  Bel- 
gium, France,  England — in  Germany  too— 
were  mourning  for  their  dead  sons,  but  she 


62  MRS  HARDEN 

felt  no  sisterhood  with  them,  no  companion- 
ship of  grief.  She  was  certain  that  there  was 
no  other  woman  miserable  as  she  was  miserable. 
Others  found  consolation.  She  was  positive 
of  that.  They  still  had  children  left  to  them, 
or  they  had  husbands,  or  friends  whom  they 
really  cared  for,  or  religious  beliefs;  or  they 
were  spiritualists  like  Lady  Terrerton;  or  they 
had  shallow  hearts  and  were  incapable  of  feeling 
deeply.  Miss  King's  words  were  often  in  her 
mind,  "  Grief  is  a  thing  that  grows  .  .  .  Of 
course  I  mean  real  grief  such  as  some  people 
seem  quite  incapable  of."  She  felt  her  grief 
growing  steadily  within  her,  like  a  disease 
almost  that  was  eating  up  the  tissues  of  her 
soul. 

Ronald  and  she  had  been  such  comrades. 
There  had  been  a  peculiar  bond  fastening  them 
together;  they  had  found  nothing  to  condemn  in 
each  other  and  they  had  both  drunk  in  hap- 
piness from  the  same  sources.  If  she  had  found 
her  happiness  in  church  and  he  had  found  his 
in  the  music  halls,  it  wouldn't  have  been  the 
same.  They  had  been  butterflies  together  in 
the  sunshine.  They  had  loved  each  other  in 
laughter.  How  often  they  had  laughed  to- 
gether! What  a  link  their  merriment  had  been! 
Melancholy  had  seemed  preposterous  to  both 


ROBERT  HICHENS  63 

of  them.  Ronald  had  often  said  to  her,  "  I 
hate  people  who  are  always  down  on  their 
luck!  "  And  she  had  agreed  with  him.  Neither 
of  them  had  ever  got  on  with  very  sensitive 
people,  or  with  those  who  took  life  as  a 
solemn  business. 

And  yet  beneath  all  the  gaiety,  the  zest,  the 
joy  of  life,  she  had,  unknown  to  herself,  been 
carrying  about  in  her  this  tremendous  capacity 
for  suffering  and  had  never  suspected  it!  Her 
ignorance  of  herself  had  been  almost  incredible. 
What  else  was  there  in  her  of  which  she  knew 
nothing?  She  was  afraid  of  herself  as  of  a 
stranger  with  whom  she  was  forced  to  live  in 
a  horrible  intimacy. 

She  had  never  been  physically  a  passionate 
woman,  and  her  love  for  her  husband  had  not 
been  deep.  She  had  liked  him,  appreciated 
him,  got  on  with  him  quite  well,  but  his  death 
had  not  left  her  desolate.  She  had  been  pre- 
pared for  it.  He  had  had  a  rather  long,  but 
not  painful  illness  and  had  died  at  Cannes 
peacefully.  Ronald  had  been  with  them,  a  boy 
of  ten.  And,  because  of  Ronald,  she  had  not 
felt  left  alone.  The  child  had  been  much  more 
to  her  than  the  father,  who  had  always  been 
a  delicate  man,  with  quiet,  literary  tastes,  de- 
void of  exuberance  and  inclined  to  be  rather 


64  MRS  HARDEN 

astonished  at  it.  Ronald  had  had  her  nature, 
not  his  father's.  But  could  he  ever  have  suf- 
fered as  she  did  now? 

Sometimes  she  wondered,  thinking  of  her- 
self as  dead,  of  him  as  alive  without  her. 

A  cataract  of  strange,  often  apparently  of 
disconnected  thoughts  flowed  through  her  mind 
in  these  days  and  nights.  For  her  mind  was 
violently  alive  now,  and  seemed  to  have  fastened 
teeth  in  her  like  an  indomitable  beast.  In  her 
grief  she  was  tremendously  egoistic,  and  this 
fact  made  her  finally  aware  that  she  believed 
Ronald  was  only  decay,  all  of  him.  If  she 
had  had  any  genuine  instinct  telling  her  that 
he  was  alive  in  some  other  world,  she  could 
not  have  been  such  an  egoist.  For  then  she 
must  have  concerned  herself  about  him,  about 
the  possible  conditions  of  his  existence,  about  his 
happiness  or  the  reverse,  about  his  remote  ac- 
tivities, about  his  feelings  for  her.  She  must 
have  wondered  whether  he  had  any  knowledge 
of  what  she  was  now  undergoing. 

She  could  not  do  this,  because  she  thought 
of  him  as  now  only  matter  mouldering  to  dust 
in  a  grave  in  France,  and  could  not  think 
otherwise  of  him. 

'  I  am  and  he  is  not." 

That,    and    she   came  to   know   it,   was   her 


ROBERT  HICHENS  65 

actual  conviction.  So  she  sat,  or  lay  awake, 
alone  with  her  suffering  and  stared  perpetually 
at  it  and  at  herself. 

One  day  Miss  King  sent  up  a  message  by 
Henrietta  begging  to  see  her  if  it  were  only 
for  a  moment. 

"Please  ask  Miss  King  what  it  is  about," 
said  Mrs  Marden.  "  I  don't  want  to  see 
anyone." 

"  But  Madame  cannot  live  always  like  this ! " 
said  the  maid.  "  If  Madame — 

"  Please  go  to  Miss  King  at  once,  Henriette!  " 
Mrs  Marden  interrupted. 

Henriette  went  out  pinching  her  thin  lips 
together.  She  came  back  in  a  few  minutes. 

"  It  is  about  Miladi  Terrerton,  Madame." 

"Well?" 

"  Miladi  keeps  writing  and  telephoning.  This 
morning  she  has  telephoned  to  say  she  must 
see  Madame,  that  she  will  call  at  three  o'clock. 
Miss  King  has  replied  that  Madame  is  unwell, 
but  Miladi  says  she  quite  comprehends  but 
will  come  nevertheless.  Miss  King 

"  Ask  Miss  King  to  come  up." 

"  Bien,  Madame." 

The  maid  went  away  and  left  Mrs  Marden 
wondering.  She  was  wondering  why  she  had 
so  brusquely  decided  to  see  Miss  King  and 


66  MRS  HARDEN 

what  she  was  going  to  say  to  her  about  Lady 
Terrerton.  She  remembered  of  course  the 
scene  under  the  portico  of  St.  Martin's-in-the- 
Fields.  She  had  not  thought  about  it  seriously 
till  this  moment,  though  Lady  Terrerton's  spir- 
itualistic practices  had  been  in  her  mind  when 
it  had  dwelt  upon  the  consolations  other 
women  found  in  their  sorrows.  But  now  she 
did  begin  to  think  seriously  of  Lady  Terrer- 
ton and  her  desire  to  hand  on  her  blessings. 
Poor  woman!  How  earnestly  she  had  spoken! 
How  eager  she  had  looked!  She  had  meant 
what  she  said.  That  was  certain.  There  could 
be  nothing  selfish  in  this  persistence  of  hers. 
She  must  believe  devoutly  that  she  had  made  a 
great  discovery.  She  must  be  anxious  to  be 
a  good  friend.  Mrs  Marden  felt  faintly  grate- 
ful to  her. 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in!  "  said  Mrs  Marden. 

Miss  King  walked  in.  She  looked  just  as 
usual,  just  as  neat,  composed,  precise  and  yet 
boyish.  But  when  she  saw  Mrs  Marden  she 
stopped. 

;<  Perhaps  you "  she  said. 

Then  quickly  recovering  herself,  she  came 
forward. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs  Marden." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  67 

"  Good  morning.  Why  did  you  stop  at  the 
door?" 

"  I  wasn't  sure  you  wanted  to  see  me." 

"  But  I  had  asked  you  to  come  up." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  know  why  you  stopped.  You  were 
startled  at  my  appearance.  Wasn't  that  it? " 

'  You  don't  look  as  well  as  I  should  like  to 
see  you." 

'  You  mean  that  I  have  lost  my  looks,  that 
I  have  aged  terribly  in  these  last  few  days. 
Well,  I  know  it  and  I  don't  mind.  I  don't 
care  what  I  look  like.  I'm  not  living  for  other 
people  now.  It  isn't  worth  while.  They're 
no  good  to  me,  so  why  should  I  bother  about 
them?  I  have  found  out  that  people  you 
can't  really  care  for  are  quite  useless  to  you 
except  when  you  are  playing  about.  And  I've 
done  with  all  that." 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean.  But  surely 
some  day " 

"  Miss  King,  I'm  one  of  the  unfortunate  peo- 
ple who  are  capable  of  real  grief.  I  wish  I 
wasn't.  It's  a  curse  to  be  like  that,  but  there 
it  is." 

Miss  King  was  silent. 

"  Now  please  tell  me  about  Lady  Terrerton." 

"She  seems  determined  to  see  you  whether 


68  MRS  HARDEN 

you  wish  it  or  not.  It  doesn't  seem  kind  or 
delicate,  but  really  I  think  she  means  it  very 
kindly.  She  has  written — you  know  you  told 
me  I  was  to  open  all  letters ' 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  It  is  all  about  her  son.  She  says  he  comes 
to  her,  talks  to  her,  that  he  is  alive  and  happy 
in  the  other  world.  It  is  all  very  strange,  but 
she  evidently  believes  it." 

Miss  King  paused. 

"Yes?"  said  Mrs  Marden. 

"  She  wishes  to  help  you  as  she  has  been 
helped." 

"  How? " 

"  She  says  she  must  see  you.  I  said  I  was 
afraid  she  couldn't — through  the  telephone.  She 
replied  that  she  considered  it  her  duty  to  see 
you,  whether  you  wished  it  or  not,  and  that 
she  would  come  to-day  at  three.  She  asked 
me  to  tell  you  this  personally.  I  had  told 
her  I  hadn't  seen  you  since — since  the  service." 

"  No." 

"  At  last  I  said  I  would  try  to  see  you.  I 
hope  you  will  forgive  me.  I  didn't  know  what 
I  had  better  do." 

Mrs  Marden  sat  without  saying  anything 
for  a  minute;  then,  looking  at  Miss  King,  she 
said, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  69 

"  I  think  you're  a  very  sensible  girl,  Miss 
King." 

Miss  King  blushed  slightly,  perhaps  at  be- 
ing called  a  girl. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said. 

'  Tell  me,  if  you  were  in  my  place  would  you 
go,  into  this  with  Lady  Terrerton? " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  should." 

"Why?" 

'  Well,  we  know  so  very  little  that  I  think 
we  ought  to  examine  into  things  for  ourselves, 
things  that  may  be  important  to  us,  I  mean.  It 
seems  to  me  a  mistake  to  deny  possibilities. 
Perhaps  I  don't  make  myself  quite  clear, 
but " 

"  Oh  yes,  you  do.  But  if  you  were  certain  a 
thing  was  all  nonsense — delusion — would  you 
waste  your  time  over  it?  " 

"Not  if  I  were  really  certain,  if  I  had  ex- 
amined into  it  for  myself  and  knew  there  was 
no  truth  in  it." 

"  I  see ;  you  would  do  that  first." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  should." 
'  Thank  you.    You  can  tell  Lady  Terrerton 
I  will  see  her  when  she  comes." 

;*  Very  well.  Good  morning,  Mrs  Mar  den. 
I  am  sorry  I  had  to  disturb  you." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  a  good  thing.    I  don't  know. 


70  MRS  HARDEN 

Life  is  so  hideous.  I  can't  think  how  you  go 
on  as  you  do.  You  must  have  an  iron  will, 
or  enormous  courage,  or  something.  What  is 
it?  Perhaps  you  have  hope?  Religion  means 
something  to  you? " 

"  Yes." 

"How  much?" 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  the  whole  human  race 
has  been  given  an  instinct  which  is  founded 
on  nothing  and  leads  nowhere." 

"What  instinct?" 

'  Well,  that  there  is  something  else  for  us 
besides  this  life." 

'  The  whole  human  race !     But " 

"  I  think  the  exceptions  are  really  very 
few." 

"  But  people  will  believe  in  what  they  want 
to  ,have." 

"You  think  it's  that?" 

"Yes,  I  think  it's  that." 

She  said  no  more,  and  Miss  King,  after 
waiting  a  moment,  went  quietly  out  of  the 
room. 

Soon  after  three  o'clock  Henriette  came  to 
Mrs  Marden  to  say  that  Lady  Terrerton  had 
called  and  was  in  the  drawing-room. 

'I'll  come  to  her  in  a  moment,"  said  Mrs 
Marden. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  71 

When  the  maid  had  gone  out  she  looked  at 
herself  in  the  glass.  She  had  not  forgotten 
Miss  King's  pause  of  astonishment  on  enter- 
ing the  room  where  she  was  that  morning. 
Grief  had  certainly  altered  her  appearance.  In 
some  subtle,  peculiar  way  it  had  roughened  her 
face,  made  her  look  almost  rugged.  Formerly 
she  had  had  a  smooth  face  with  very  few  lines 
in  it,  humorous  observant  eyes,  a  gay,  perhaps 
slightly  sarcastic  mouth.  There  had  been  a 
touch  of  Ronald's  impudence  in  her  expression, 
the  not  unpleasant  impudence  that  is  born  of  a 
light  heart  and  excellent  health.  Now  she 
looked  what  women  sometimes  call  "battered  ", 
very  much  older,  but  also  much  more  expres- 
sive. There  was  in  her  eyes  an  almost  fierce 
self-consciousness,  about  her  mouth  an  intense 
bitterness.  It  was  strange  to  be  looking  like 
that.  If  Ronald  could  see  her  now  he  would  be 
astonished,  he  would  scarcely  recognise  her.  She 
could  imagine  him  saying  to  her,  "  Why, 
Mother,  what  on  earth  has  happened  to  you? 
You  must  have  been  grousing  like  the  very 
devil  to  look  like  that!" 

She  turned  away  from  the  mirror  and  went 
downstairs. 

When  she  came  into  the  drawing-room  Lady 
Terrerton,  who  was  standing,  came  towards 


72  MRS  HARDEN 

her,  gazed  at  her  with  eyes  that  took  in  all 
the  changes  in  her  face,  then  kissed  her. 

"Poor  Evelyn!  I  know — I  know!  But  I 
had  to  come,  whether  you  wished  to  see  me  or 
not." 

"  But  I  do  wish  to  see  you,  though  it  will  be 
no  use." 

'Wait!  You  don't  know.  Some  day  you 
will  bless  me  for  my  persistence.  You  are  in 
the  darkness  like  so  many  others.  But  I 
shall  show  you  how  to  reach  out  to  the  light." 

Mrs  Marden  twisted  her  dry  lips.  At  that 
moment  she  was  pitying  her  friend,  and  even 
in  her  grief  she  felt  superior  to  Lady  Terrerton. 
'  They  sat  down  together  on  a  sofa  and  Lady 
Terrerton  said, 

"  Do  you  believe  I  am  a  sincere  woman?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"And  you  know  how  I  loved  Willie?" 

"  Yes." 

'*  We  were  wrapped  up  in  each  other.  He 
told  me  everything.  Many  mothers  are  al- 
most strangers  to  their  sons.  They  know  less 
about  them  really  than  many  other  women  and 
than  their  pals.  Of  course  they  may  guess  things. 
Mothers  have  strong  instincts.  But  their  sons 
wish  to  keep  them  more  or  less  in  the  dark;  and 
they  often  succeed  in  doing  it.  I  know  that." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  73 

"  I  daresay  they  do." 

'  Willie  was  not  like  that.  I  knew  his  faults. 
He  didn't  mind  my  knowing  them  although  he 
reverenced  me.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  some- 
thing to  prove  to  you  how  deeply  in  earnest  I 
am  and  how  sincere  in  my  wish  to  help  you.  I 
have  never  got  on  with  my  husband.  We  don't 
understand  each  other;  we  don't  suit  each  other 
at  all.  Probably  you  have  never  suspected 
this?" 

"  No.    I  thought  you  got  on  very  well." 

"  He  doesn't  care  for  me,"  said  Lady  Terrer- 
ton  simply.  "  I  bore  him." 

Mrs  Marden  was  silent. 

"So  you  see  Willie  was  everything  to  me, 
absolutely  everything,  because  I  am  not  a 
woman  who  could  ever  try  to  find  consolation 
with  a  lover.  Now  you  understand  just  what 
my  loss  was.  It  could  not  have  been  greater." 

"  I  see  that." 

"  It  was  quite  as  great  as  yours." 

"  I  suppose — I  daresay  it  was." 

Mrs  Marden  said  that,  but  she  was  unable 
really  to  believe  it. 

"  And  yet  I  can  bear  it  bravely.  I  can  even 
be  happy  in  spite  of  it.  I  am  happy." 

She  said  the  last  words  with  deep  conviction, 
smiling. 


74,  MRS  MARDEN 

"  Doesn't  that  tell  you  something?  I  am  very 
happy.  I  would  not  have  Willie  back  on  earth 
with  me." 

When  Lady  Terrerton  said  that  Mrs  Mar- 
den  felt  that  a  gulf  yawned  between  them,  that 
it  was  useless  to  go  on  with  the  conversation, 
but  she  only  said, 

'  That  is  very  wonderful." 

'  The  whole  of  our  existence  is  a  wonder. 
We  are  marvels  and  our  destiny  is  beyond 
measure  marvellous.  Now,  dear,  I  want  you 
to  listen  to  me.  Never  mind  if  you  think  I  am 
talking  nonsense.  Only  listen.  Only  try  to 
realise  that  hitherto  you  have  lived  in  the  dark. 
Only  try  to  be  as  a  little  child." 

"  I  can't  be  that,  I'm  afraid." 

'  Yes,  you  can.  There  is  very  little  difference 
between  a  child's  ignorance  and  ours  on  this 
plane.  Willie  says  so." 

Mrs  Marden's  body  stiffened  at  this  remark, 
but  she  said, 

"  I  will  listen  to  what  you  have  to  say." 

"  And  don't  be  the  spirit  that  denies.  That 
is  all  I  ask." 

"  I  will  try  not  to  be." 

She  leaned  back  on  the  sofa,  folded  her  hands, 
and  listened. 

When  Lady  Terrerton  went  away,  perhaps  an 


ROBERT  HICHENS  75 

hour  later,  Mrs  Marden  had  promised  to  go 
to  her  house  on  the  following  afternoon  to 
meet  a  certain  medium  called  Peter  Orwyn. 

She  knew  she  would  keep  her  promise,  though 
she  felt  no  real  interest  in  the  matter.  But 
Lady  Terrerton's  deep  earnestness  had  touched 
her,  and  she  had  not  forgotten  Miss  King's 
advice.  Miss  King  was  a  very  sensible 
woman;  and  perhaps  she  was  right,  perhaps  it 
was  foolish  to  deny  that  things  could  be  when 
one  had  never  studied  them,  examined  into  them. 
And — nothing  really  mattered  now  one  way 
or  the  other.  The  fabric  of  life  was  crash- 
ing down  all  about  her.  Death  and  destruc- 
tion were  in  the  air,  under  the  waters,  on  the 
broad  surface  of  the  earth.  There  was  noth- 
ing stable  anywhere.  An  era  was  passing 
away.  She  wished  she  could  pass  away  pain- 
lessly with  it,  but  probably  she  would  live  to 
be  an  old  woman.  Useless  people,  people 
without  hope  or  desjre  often  lived  to  be  old, 
and  the  ardent  and  young  and  desirous  were 
cut  off — like  Ronald. 

On  the  following  day  she  started  for 
Berkeley  Square,  where  Lady  Terrerton  lived, 
in  a  dull  condition  of  mind.  She  walked  there. 
When  she  was  entering  the  cosy  square  she 
thought  of  Ronald's  contempt  for  all  occult 


76  MRS  MARDEN 

practices.  But  there  was  no  Ronald  now.  He 
would  not  know  what  she  was  doing.  She 
felt  quite  certain  of  that. 

When  she  went  into  Lady  Terrerton's  draw- 
ing-room she  found  her  hostess  there  with  a 
middle-aged  man  who  was  introduced  to  her 
as  "  my  dear  friend  Mr  Peter  Orwyn." 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR  ORWYN  was  broad-shouldered,  thick-set, 
with  a  powerful  red  face,  earnest  dark  eyes,  a 
heavy  iron-grey  moustache  and  iron-grey  hair 
carefully  brushed  and  parted  in  the  middle  of 
his  head.  He  was  well  dressed  in  a  braided 
morning  coat  and  dark  striped  trousers.  His 
hands  were  large  and  capable,  his  movements 
slow  and  controlled.  He  looked,  Mrs  Marden 
thought,  like  a  quiet  prosperous  business  man, 
a  manufacturer,  or  cotton-spinner,  someone  who 
had  many  men  under  him,  who  was  accustomed 
to  control  people  and  manage  affairs.  There 
was  a  sensible,  honest  look  in  his  eyes.  He 
spoke  in  a  melodious  deep  voice,  rolling  his 
r's.  He  was  obviously  not  quite  what  is  gen- 
erally called  a  gentleman.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  was  nothing  vulgar  or  genteel  about  him. 
His  manner  was  simple,  straightforward,  un- 
selfconscious,  and  he  had  no  air  of  wishing  to 
make  a  tremendous  impression  on  those  he  was 
with. 

After  a  few  words  Lady  Terrerton  said, 

"  I  am  going  away  for  five  minutes,  Evelyn. 

77 


78  MRS  MARDEN 

I  want  you  to  have  a  little  talk  alone  with  Mr 
Orwyn." 

And  she  went  out  of  the  room.  When  the 
door  was  shut  behind  her  Mrs  Marden  said, 

"  Of  course  Lady  Terrerton  has  told  you 
about  what  has  happened  to  me?  " 

'  Yes,  she  has.  I  understand  from  her  that 
you  have  none  of  her  knowledge,  that  you  have 
never  tried  to  put  yourself  in  communication 
with  the  spirits  of  the  departed." 

"  I  never  have,  I  don't  believe  such  communi- 
cation is  possible.  Please  don't  think  I  am 
rude  in  saying  so." 

"  I  like  your  sincerity.  You  have  never 
made  any  study  of  spiritualism,  I  suppose,  never 
read  much  about  it,  never  come  in  contact  with 
any  mediums? " 

"  No,  never.  My  boy  laughed  at  that  kind 
of  thing  when  he  thought  of  it  at  all,  which  was 
very  seldom." 

"  Quite  so,  quite  so.  I  have  two  sons,  Mrs 
Marden." 

"Yes?" 

"  One  is  still  at  school.  The  other  is  in  the 
army  in  France." 

"  And  do  they  believe  in  spiritualism?  " 

"  The  younger  one  does.  The  other — he  is  a 
great  athlete — does  not.  He  is  very  much 


79 


held  in  the  body.  But  he's  a  fine  fellow  and 
brave  as  a  lion." 

"  But  then — do  forgive  me — what  does  he 
think  about  you?" 

"  He  just  takes  me  as  his  old  Dad.  He 
knows  I  love  him  and  have  always  done  my 
best  by  him.  That's  enough  for  him." 

"  I  suppose  he  thinks  you  are  self -deceived?  " 

"That's  about  it,  I  should  say.  But  I'm 
not.  All  over  London  I  have  brought  comfort 
to  the  bereaved." 

"  Do  you  think  you  have  a  special  gift, 
some  extraordinary  faculty  which  enables  you 
to — to  serve  as  a  means  of  communication  be- 
tween the  living  and  the  dead  ? " 

"  There  are  no  dead,"  said  Peter  Orwyn 
firmly.  "  Your  son  is  not  dead.  You  are  living 
in  an  illusion  like  many  others.  Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  you  have  never  felt  that  you 
have  something  in  you  which  is  a  free  thing, 
which  illness  can't  injure,  which  accident  can't 
destroy,  which  is  independent  of  the  body? 
What  are  you  suffering  in  at  this  moment?  Is 
it  in  anything  physical?  Is  it  in  the  brain? 
Is  it  in  the  heart — that  organ  which  a  surgeon 
can  take  out  of  your  body  and  put  back  again 
without  killing  you?  I  say — no!  You're  suf- 
fering in  your  soul,  your  eternal  spirit,  the 


80  MRS  HARDEN 

part  of  you  which  is  unable  to  be  handled, 
which  is  unable  to  die,  and  knows  it." 

Mrs  Marden  was  silent.  At  that  moment 
she  was  trying  to  examine  herself.  Was  she 
conscious  of  having  something  within  her  which 
could  not  be  killed,  a  flame  which  nothing  could 
extinguish?  She  realised  that  she  could  not 
imagine  not  being.  She  certainly  felt  as  if 
she  would  and  must  persist.  Yet  she  also 
felt  that  nothing  of  Ronald  persisted. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  we  should  not  cease,'* 
she  said,  after  the  long  pause.  '  We  are  a 
miserable  race  after  all.  Look  at  what  we 
are  doing  now,  destroying  each  other  merci- 
lessly. Why  should  such  creatures  as  we  are 
go  on  and  on  for  ever  ?  " 

"  Have  you  always  felt  like  that? " 

"  No,"  she  said  truthfully.  "  Till  my  boy  was 
killed  I  thoroughly  enjoyed  life,  and  thought 
I  was  fond  of  people.  I  looked  upon  everything 
differently  then." 

As  she  spoke  the  sense  of  her  misery  flowed 
upon  her,  and  the  robust  looking  man  sitting 
with  her  and  gazing  earnestly  at  her,  seemed 
suddenly  remote. 

"  And  you  will  change  again." 

She  heard  his  deep  voice  speaking  melodi- 
ously. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  81 

"  This  is  only  a  passing  shadow  falling  across 
your  destiny.  You  are  being  educated;  that's 
all." 

"  Could  you  speak  like  that  if  your  eldest 
son  had  been  killed  ? "  said  Mrs  Harden,  with 
sudden  sharp  penetration. 

She  saw  an  odd  look,  like  something  shrinking 
or  cowering,  come  into  his  eyes  as  she  spoke. 
It  vanished  almost  instantly. 

"  I  think  it  is  much  easier  to  preach  conso- 
lation to  others  than  to  find  it  ourselves,  when 
we  need  it,"  she  continued. 

"  I  do  not  preach  it,  I  bring  it,"  said  Mr 
Orwyn  firmly.  "  I  have  brought  it  to  Lady 
Terrerton.  I  am  prepared  to  bring  it  to  you, 
on  one  condition." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  Merely  that  you  do  not  deliberately  fight 
against  me.  I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  without 
proof.  But  I  do  ask  vou  to  be  ready  to  accept 
proof." 

"  I  think — I  hope  I  am  a  reasonable  woman," 
said  Mrs  Marden. 

"  No  doubt.  Now  let  me  ask  you  a  question. 
Do  you  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer? " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't." 

"Why  not?" 

"  How  can  there  be  a  Being  who  allows,  or 


82  MRS  HARDEN 

disallows,  anything — the  death  of  a  soldier  in 
battle,  for  instance — merely  because  someone  in 
England,  or  elsewhere,  doesn't  pray  or  does 
pray  about  it? " 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  believe  prayer  works 
wonders." 

'  Then  I  think  it's  very  hard  on  the  soldier 
who  has  no  one  to  pray  for  him." 

'  I  pray  for  my  son.  Did  you  never  pray  for 
yours  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  never  had  any  real  feeling  that 
my  doing  so  was  any  good." 

'  Then  why  did  you  do  it  ?  You  were  moved 
by  an  inward  impulse  I  suppose?  " 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  why  I  did  it." 

1  I  do.  You  did  it  because  your  soul  knew 
far  more  than  your  brain." 

'  Well,  when  I  went  to  church  I  thought  it 
was  all  nonsense,  and  I  think  so  still." 

'  Will  you  come  to  a  sitting  with  me  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  will  do  that." 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  few  names  of  people  who 
have  sat  with  me  and  been  convinced  that  I 
have  the  power  to  open  up  a  means  of  com- 
munication with  those  who  have  passed  out  of 
this  world." 

He  mentioned  several  names  of  well  known 
people,  both  men  and  women.  Two  of  the 


ROBERT  HICHENS  83 

former  were  scientists  of  repute.  Another  was 
a  famous  writer.  One  of  the  women  was  a 
distinguished  poetess. 

"  Do  you  think  such  people  are  likely  to  be 
deceived?"  he  asked  her. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  think  crowds  of  soldiers 
were  deceived  in  the  retreat  from  Mons." 

"  Ah !  You  mean  about  the  presence  of 
protecting  angels?" 

"Yes." 

'  Well,  you  must  judge  for  yourself.  I 
am  sure  I  shall  convince  you." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  could." 

'  That  is  the  right  frame  of  mind,"  he  said 
very  earnestly. 

At  this  moment  Lady  Terrerton  re-entered 
the  room,  and  shortly  afterward  Mr  Orwyn 
said  good-bye  and  went  away. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone  Lady  Terrerton 
eagerly  asked  Mrs  Marden  what  she  thought 
of  him. 

"  I  think  he  has  an  honest  sort  of  face," 
she  said. 

"  He's   absolutely  sincere,   absolutely." 

"  But  I  suppose  he  takes  money  for  what 
he  does? " 

'  Yes.     Is  that  a  crime?  " 

"  No.     But  still " 


84  MRS  HARDEN 

"  Clergymen  take  money  for  being  clergy- 
men. The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  has  fif- 
teen thousand  a  year  and  two  palaces.  The 
Pope  has  the  Vatican  and  Peter's  pence.  Do 
we  blame  them?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  blame  anyone,  but — the 
money  question  makes  me  very  suspicious  about 
the  whole  thing." 

"  Dear,  I  think  that's  unreasonable.  Every- 
one has  to  live." 

"Has  Mr  Orwyn  always  been  a  medium?" 

"No;  he  was  once  a  Baptist  Minister,  in 
Lancashire  I  believe.  Then  he  was  led  to  join 
the  Salvation  Army.  When  he  discovered  his 
powers  he  gave  everything  up  to  devote  him- 
self to  their  development.  He  is  very  far  from 
being  rich." 

"  He  told  me  he  had  two  sons." 

'  Yes,  and  he  adores  them,  especially  the 
eldest,  who  is  fighting." 

"  I  know." 

"  How  do  you  know? " 

Mrs  Marden  knew  by  the  look  she  had  seen 
in  Peter  Orwyn's  dark  eyes,  but  she  only 
said, 

:<  He  told  me  his  eldest  son  was  a  very  fine 
fellow." 

"  He  isn't  a  bit  afraid  for  him." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  85 

'  Why  should  he  be  if  he  is  as  sincere 
as  you  say?  If  there  is  no  such  thing  as  death, 
as  he  says  he  believes,  fear  must  be  impossible 
to  him." 

"Ah!  but  there's  the  separation." 

"  Mr  Orwyn  has  no  right  to  be  afraid  as 
others  are  afraid,"  said  Mrs  Marden  obstinately. 
"  If  I  had  his  faith,  the  whole  of  life  would  be 
changed  for  me,  and  I  with  it.  But  I  could 
never  have  it." 

Lady  Terrerton  looked  deeply  distressed,  al- 
most piteous. 

'  Then   you    refuse " 

"  No,  I  will  come  to  a  sitting." 

'  To-morrow  at  eight.  That's  all  I  ask  of 
you." 

"Am  I  to  come  here?" 

"  No.  We  will  go  to  Mr  Orwyn's  house  in 
Hornton  Street,  Kensington.  His  number  is 
eleven  B.  But  I'll  call  for  you  about  half  past 
seven." 

'  Very   well.     But — I   know   it  is   all   non- 
sense, and  my  boy  had  such  a  contempt  for. 
that  kind  of  thing." 

"  Evelyn,  believe  me,  he  has  no  contempt 
now.  He  understands  now.  Our  eyes  are 
veiled,  but  he  sees  clearly  at  last." 

Mrs  Marden  looked  at  her  friend  with  a  sort 


86  MRS  HARDEN 

of  deep  wonder.  It  was  impossible  to  doubt 
Lady  Terrerton's  sincerity.  And  Peter  Orwyn 
looked  and  seemed  sincere  too.  How  strange 
the  diversities  of  human  belief  were!  And 
human  follies,  how  various  they  were,  and  yet 
how  some  forms  of  folly  persisted  through  the 
ages! 

"  What  is  it,  Evelyn?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  But  you  look  so  strange !  " 

"  Do  I  ?  I  was  only  thinking  that  if  we 
hadn't  a  sense  of  humour  some  of  us  would 
go  mad." 

"A  sense  of  humour!  But  what  has  that 
got  to  do  with  these  profound  and  marvellous 
truths?" 

"  I  could  hardly  explain,  dear.  Good-bye  and 
thank  you  for  all  your  goodness  to  me." 

On  the  following  evening  Mrs  Marden  felt 
specially  miserable,  almost  desperate  in  her 
misery.  A  longing  to  remain  shut  up  alone 
possessed  her.  She  was  afraid  of  exposing  her 
wretchedness  to  the  eyes  of  others  almost  as 
if  it  were  a  poor  deformed  body  undressed. 
And  when  she  was  told  that  Lady  Terrerton 
was  waiting  for  her  in  a  taxicab  she  was  seized 
by  an  almost  overpowering  reluctance  to  go 
with  her  to  Hornton  Street.  But  she  over- 


ROBERT  HICHENS  87 

came  it  by  a  great  effort  of  her  will  and  went 
down. 

"  Of  course  we  shall  be  alone,  with  Mr 
Orwyn,"  she  said  to  her  friend  as  they  drove 
away. 

"  No,  dear " 

"  But  I  can't  meet  strangers.  Please  stop 
the  cab.  I  must  go  back.'* 

Lady  Terrerton  took  her  hand  and  held  it 
tightly. 

"  Evelyn,  there  must  be  a  circle." 

"A  circle?" 

"  Mr  Orwyn  obtains  his  power  from  it.  He 
needs  help.  There  will  only  be  two  other 
people." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"Mr  Cyril  Hammond- 

"Do  you  mean  Hammond  the  essayist? " 

"  Yes.     You  will  like  him." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  for  anybody  now." 

'  That  will  pass.  The  other  sitter  will  be 
Arthur  Burnley,  Endsley's  brother.  Surely 
you  know  him? " 

"  I've  just  met  him.  But  I  hate  meeting 
people  now.  I  thought  we  should  be  alone  or 
I  wouldn't  have  come." 

"  Dear,  we  are  forced  to  have  the  right  con- 
ditions. Otherwise  we  should  get  no  results. 


88  MRS  HARDEN 

Mr.  Orwyn  requires  more  help  than  some 
mediums  do." 

Mrs  Marden  said  no  more,  but  when  the  cab 
stopped  before  a  small  house  in  Hornton  Street 
she  got  out  with  slow  reluctance.  Her  limbs 
seemed  heavy  and  weak,  and  a  sort  of  nausea 
of  sorrow  was  upon  her.  She  had  never  before 
felt  such  acute  and  helpless  agony  at  her  loss, 
such  impotence,  such  a  sense  of  being  a  victim 
of  the  unknown,  as  she  felt  at  that  moment. 
She  was  physically  affected  and  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  mount  the  flight  of  stairs  which  led  to  the 
first  floor,  and  when  she  reached  the  landing  she 
whispered  to  Lady  Terrerton. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  hadn't  come,  I  wish  I  hadn't 
come ! " 

"Hush,  dear!"  said  Lady  Terrerton,  gently 
pressing  her  arm.  '  You  will  feel  differently 
very  soon." 

They  entered  a  narrow,  simply  furnished 
drawing-room,  running  from  the  front  to  the 
back  of  the  house.  In  it  Mr  Orwyn  was  waiting 
for  them  with  two  men.  He  wore  the  braided 
morning  coat  and  the  striped  trousers,  and 
looked  red,  earnest  and  quietly  powerful  as  on 
the  preceding  day.  After  welcoming  them  in  a 
hushed  way,  he  said  to  Mrs  Marden, 

"Do  you  know  our  two  friends?" 


ROBERT  HICHENS  89 

"  I  know  Mr  Burnley,"  said  Mrs  Marden,  in 
a  scarcely  audible  voice. 

And  she  shook  hands  with  a  long-faced,  acute 
looking  man,  about  thirty  years  old,  whose  small 
sunken  brown  eyes  seemed  to  pierce  whatever 
they  glanced  at. 

"  This  is  Mr  Hammond — Mrs  Marden." 

Mrs  Marden  bowed  to  a  round-faced,  round- 
headed  man,  with  grey  hair,  large  widely  open 
grey  eyes  and  a  pouting  energetic  mouth,  who 
bowed  in  return  with  an  air  of  grave  formality. 
Then  Lady  Terrerton  greeted  the  two  men 
with  her  quick  eager  manner,  which  was  full  of 
nervous  intensity. 

"  Mrs  Marden  sits  to-night  for  the  first  time,'* 
said  Mr  Orwyn,  in  his  deep  melodious  voice. 
"  She  comes  among  us  not  as  a  convinced  be- 
liever but  with  an  open  mind.  The  cur- 
tains " — he  turned  towards  Mrs  Marden — "  are 
drawn  as  you  see.  The  windows  behind  them 
are  shut.  I  shall  now  lock  the  only  door  in 
the  room,  so  that  no  one  from  outside  can  dis- 
turb us.  We  are  going  to  sit  round  that  table." 

He  locked  the  door,  then  pointed  to  a  good 
sized  round  table  which  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  floor  at  the  back  of  the  room.  On  it  lay 
a  tambourine,  a  rattle  and  a  concertina. 

"  There  is  the  cabinet." 


90  MRS  HARDEN 

With  one  large  hand  he  indicated  some  thin 
curtains  which,  hung  on  a  brass  rod,  concealed 
an  angle  of  the  room. 

"As  you  can  see,  there  is  nothing  in  the 
cabinet  but  a  chair." 

And  he  went  over  to  the  curtains  and  pulled 
them  back,  disclosing  an  ordinary  kitchen  chair. 

'  The  preparations,  as  you  see,  are  very 
simple,"  he  added,  still  addressing  himself  to 
Mrs  Marden. 

1  Yes,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

She  was  thinking,  "  And  very  absurd !  '* 
tragically,  not  with  any  sense  of  humour.  The 
sight  of  the  rattle,  the  concertina  and  the  tam- 
bourine with  its  bells  made  her  feel  almost 
sick.  How  Ronald  would  have  laughed  at  it 
all!  But  she  hated  it,  because  he  was  falling 
into  decay  somewhere  in  France,  and  she  was 
in  this  room  with  these  people  because  of  just 
that.  She  looked  at  Arthur  Burnley  and  Mr 
Hammond  with  miserable  piercing  eyes,  that 
asked  them  silently,  "  Do  you  two  men,  clever, 
educated,  worldly-wise,  both  of  you — do  you 
believe  that  this  childish  paraphernalia  will 
be  made  use  of  by  the  spirit  hands  of  men  who 
have  fallen  bathed  in  blood  to  save  England? 
Do  you  believe  that  this  thick-set,  red-faced  man 
in  a  braided  coat  and  striped  trousers  is  able 


ROBERT  HICHENS  91 

to  call  back  the  dead  to  eleven  B  Hornton 
Street?"  They  gave  no  answer  to  her  silent 
question,  only  looked  grave,  self-possessed,  well- 
bred  and  devoid  of  all  sarcasm.  Arthur  Burn- 
ley's curious  eyes  glittered  in  the  electric  light 
from  their  deep-sunken  sockets,  and  Cecil  Ham- 
mond's pouting  mouth  opened,  then  closed  firmly 
as  if  he  decided  that  silence  was  the  wisest  policy 
at  that  moment. 

Lady  Terrerton's  ravaged  face  had  a  pas- 
sionate, hungry  expression  that  was  almost  ter- 
rible in  its  vividness.  A  sort  of  greedy  ma- 
ternity stared  out  of  her  burning  eyes.  Mrs 
Marden  looked  at  her  with  pity,  and  yet  was 
almost  ashamed  for  her.  She  was  exposing 
something  that  ought  not  to  be  seen  by  these 
men  who  were  enclosed  with  her  in  this  narrow, 
locked-up  chamber. 

'  There  is  something  frightful  in  longing 
when  it  goes  about  naked,"  thought  Mrs  Mar- 
den.  And  she  tried  to  bring  on  her  own  face 
an  expression  of  vacant  indifference. 

"  Now!  "  said  Peter  Orwyn. 

And  he  turned  out  all  the  lights  except  one, 
a  lamp  with  a  red  shade,  which  stood  on  a  tiny 
table  in  a  corner  of  the  front  part  of  the  room, 
close  to  the  window  which  looked  on  to  the 
street. 


92  MRS  HARDEN 

Immediately  the  room  became  mysterious,  the 
faces  of  those  in  it  more  significant,  more 
mental.  Arthur  Burnley's  eyes  gleamed  with 
light  like  a  cat's.  Cecil  Hammond's  energetic 
mouth  suggested  inexorable  firmness.  Lady 
Terrerton's  pale  features  resembled  those  of  a 
mask  modelled  and  painted  to  represent  famine. 
And  the  red  face  of  Peter  Orwyn  seemed  to 
gain  in  power  suddenly. 

'  We  will  begin  now,"  said  Orwyn. 

He  sat  down  heavily  in  front  of  the  round 
table. 

'  You  might  sit  by  me,"  he  said  to  Mrs 
Marden. 

She  took  the  chair  on  his  left.  Arthur 
Burnley  sat  at  his  right  by  Lady  Terrerton. 
Hammond  sat  between  the  two  women. 

"  Place  your  hands  lightly  on  the  table," 
said  Orwyn  in  a  low  voice  to  Mrs  Marden. 

She  obeyed.  The  others  followed  her  ex- 
ample and  the  sitting  began. 

For  perhaps  ten  minutes  there  was  a  pro- 
found silence. 

During  the  silence  a  change  took  place  in 
Mrs  Marden.  Her  feeling  of  bitter  ridicule 
faded  gradually  away  and  was  replaced  by 
a  sensation  of  expectation,  which  seemed  to 
her  rather  physical  than  mental.  Her  body 


ROBERT  HICHENS  93 

seemed  to  be  expecting  something  while  her 
mind  brooded  vaguely  on  the  horrors  of  the 
war.  Then  she  felt,  or  thought  she  felt,  the 
personalities  of  those  sitting  with  her  as  if  they 
were  gaining  in  strength,  in  meaning,  as  if  they 
were  setting  up  a  definite  communication  with 
hers.  Finally,  however,  this  feeling  about  all 
of  them  except  Peter  Orwyn  flickered  out  in 
her,  like  an  expiring  flame,  and  she  was  con- 
scious only  of  the  medium  as  a  force  powerful 
and  increasing  in  power,  spreading,  filling  the 
room.  She  seemed  to  feel  him  in  her  hands 
which  tingled,  then  in  the  whole  of  her  body. 

After  a  while  the  usual  table-turning  and 
rappings  took  place.  These  did  not  interest  her 
at  all.  On  the  contrary,  they  irritated  her  and 
seemed  to  get  in  the  way  of  something  which 
she  wished  to  know  more  of,  and  which  was 
interfered  with  by  them.  Messages  purported 
to  come  for  Lady  Terrerton  and  Arthur  Burn- 
ley. Several  were  from  "  Willie,"  according 
to  the  table.  Finally  the  table  for  an  instant 
rose  from  the  ground  without  apparently  being 
touched  by  any  of  them.  Then  the  curtains  of 
the  cabinet  swayed  violently  as  if  blown  by  a 
wind,  and  there  were  rappings  in  various  parts 
of  the  room. 

After  all  this  Peter  Orwyn  seemed  to  fall 


94  MRS  HARDEN 

into  a  deep  sleep.  He  breathed  loudly,  pain- 
fully. His  eyes  closed.  Drops  of  perspiration 
rolled  down  his  red  face.  Then  Arthur  Burnley, 
who  evidently  knew  what  ought  to  be  done  on 
such  occasions,  got  up  softly,  turned  out  the 
one  lamp,  plunging  the  room  in  complete  black- 
ness, and  returned  to  his  place.  The  medium 
moved  uneasily  in  the  dark,  trembled  and 
groaned  as  if  in  pain.  Presently  he  began  to 
speak,  at  first  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice. 
Finally  he  said,  "  Mother! "  twice  loudly. 

'Who  is  it?"  said  Lady  Terrerton  eagerly 
in  the  dark. 

"  Mother,  I  was  wrong — I  know  the  truth 
now! "  said  the  voice,  which  was  quite  unlike 
Peter  Orwyn's. 

It  sounded  like  a  young  voice,  not  a  child's 
but  a  young  man's  voice,  typical  of  well-bred 
young  England.  It  suggested  to  Mrs  Marden 
the  public  school,  Sandhurst,  even  the  Guards. 
She  could  not  imagine  Peter  Orwyn  speaking 
like  that.  After  a  pause  this  voice  said. 

'  You  are  doing  the  right  thing.  Keep  on ! 
I  can't  say  any  more  now.  I  haven't  enough 
strength  somehow.  But  I'm- " 

The  voice  had  become  much  fainter.  After 
a  half  second  of  silence  the  word  "  Ronald " 
was  just  audible.  Then  the  medium  shivered, 


95 


rolled  in  his  chair,  breathed  heavily  for  two  or 
three  minutes.  A  dead  silence  succeeded.  It 
was  broken  by  Orwyn's  deep  voice  saying, 

"  Please  turn  on  the  light." 

Burnley  obeyed.  When  the  lamp  was  lit 
Mrs  Harden  saw  that  Orwyn's  earnest  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  her. 

"Did  anything  come?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  yes!  "  said  Lady  Terrerton.  "  It  was 
wonderful!  " 

Mrs  Marden  said  nothing. 

Orwyn  got  up.  He  seemed  tired  and  pre- 
occupied. 

"  I  must  have  some  water,"  he  said. 

And  going  over  to  the  door,  he  unlocked  it 
and  went  out  of  the  room.  Then  they  all  rose 
from  the  table  and  moved  about.  Mrs  Marden 
found  herself  with  Cecil  Hammond  near  the 
window  looking  to  Hornton  Street. 

"Do  you  believe  in  all  this? "  she  asked  him, 
not  looking  at  him, 

"  I  think  it  is  worthy  of  investigation,"  he 
said,  noncommittally.  "  Orwyn  undoubtedly 
possesses  some  strange  power.  He  has  proved 
that  to  me.  I  don't  pretend  to  understand  what 
it  is.  But  several  people  say  he  has  spoken  to 
them  with  voices  which  they  recognised  as  the 
voices  of  dead  relations  or  friends." 


96  MRS  HARDEN 

As  he  spoke  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  and 
saw  in  them  a  question.  But  she  did  not 
answer  it.  She  longed  to  go  away,  to  be  alone 
in  her  own  house.  But  evidently  there  was 
something  more  to  come  and  she  was  tied  to 
Lady  Terrerton  to-night.  After  some  more  un- 
easy conversation  Peter  Orwyn  returned,  look- 
ing calmer.  He  again  locked  the  door  and  said, 
'  We  will  sit  once  more.  There  seems  a 
great  deal  of  power  to-night." 

As  he  said  the  last  words  he  looked,  as  if 
enquiringly,  at  Mrs  Mar  den. 

"  I  wish  you  to  tie  me  up,"  he  continued, 
turning  to  Burnley  and  Hammond. 

And  going  to  a  bureau,  he  opened  a  drawer 
and  produced  some  lengths  of  strong  cord. 

Burnley  and  Hammond  then  quickly  arid 
deftly  tied  his  arms  tightly  to  his  sides,  and 
fastened  his  legs  firmly  together  at  the  ankles 
and  also  above  the  knees,  while  he  sat  in  his 
chair  by  the  round  table.  Then  they  resumed 
their  places.  Arthur  Burnley  took  his  seat  last 
after  turning  out  the  lamp. 

This  time  no  voices  spoke,  but  the  con- 
certina was  played,  the  rattle  sounded,  and  the 
tambourine  seemed  to  float  about  the  room, 
for  they  heard  its  bells  above  their  heads,  some- 
times near,  sometimes  apparently  at  a  distance. 


97 


Lights  also  flashed  in  the  darkness  high  up  near 
the  ceiling,  and  again  there  were  rappings. 

When  the  electric  lights  were  switched  on 
Orwyn  was  found  in  his  chair,  still  firmly 
bound,  breathing  heavily  and  streaming  with 
perspiration.  He  looked  like  a  man  who  had 
been  making  a  strong  physical  effort. 

Arthur  Burnley  and  Hammond  unbound 
him.  Without  saying  a  word  he  got  up,  went 
to  a  sofa,  and  sat  down,  holding  his  head  with 
both  hands  and  resting  his  elbows  on  his  knees. 
He  did  this  very  naturally  and  un-selfcon- 
sciously,  almost  as  if  he  were  alone  in  the 
room.  Meanwhile  they  all  remained  silent. 
Lady  Terrerton  looked  at  Mrs  Marden,  but  the 
latter  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  Ham- 
mond drew  aside  one  of  the  curtains  and  opened 
a  window,  letting  in  the  cool  night  air.  Arthur 
Burnley  lit  a  cigarette. 

Presently  Peter  Orwyn  raised  his  head. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  sit  for  materialisations 
to-night,"  he  said,  speaking  slowly  like  a  weary 
man.  "  I'm  tired.  We  have  had  a  new  friend 
with  us,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  I've  been 
used  by  a  new  and  very  powerful,  very  urgent, 
personality.  I  have  a  sense  of  struggle.  It 
may  be  easier  another  time.  I  can't  try  any 
more  to-night." 


98  MRS  HARDEN 

"  We'll  go,  dear  Mr  Orwyn,  we'll  go !  "  said 
Lady  Terrerton.  "  I  quite  understand.  It's 
been  very  wonderful.  You  must  rest  now." 

"  Presently,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  Mrs 
Marden  to  remain  behind  for  a  few  moments,  if 
she  will." 

"But  how  shall  I  get  home?  I  came  with 
Lady  Terrerton,"  said  Mrs  Marden. 

"  Perhaps  Mr  Burnley  won't  mind  seeing  me 
home,"  said  Lady  Terrerton. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  Arthur  Burnley. 

"  My  taxi  can  stay  for  you,  Evelyn." 

"  Very  well.    Thank  you,"  said  Mrs  Marden. 

She  did  not  know  whether  she  wished  to  stay 
or  not,  but  she  did  not  feel  inclined  to  make 
any  effort  just  then.  And  to  refuse  would  have 
required  an  effort  on  her  part. 

When  the  others  had  gone  she  said  to  Peter 
Orwyn, 

'  Why  did  you  wish  me  to  stay?" 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  whether  there  was  any 
manifestation  which  seemed  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  you,"  he  replied.  '  When  I  am 
in  a  trance  I  know  nothing.  Some  mediums,  I 
believe,  are  partially  conscious,  have  some  idea 
of  what  is  happening,  of  how  they  are  being 
used.  I  am  not.  I  am  as  one  dead  for  the 
time.  Did  anyone  come  for  you? " 


ROBERT  HICHENS  99 

"  But  you  said  just  now  you  had  a  sense  of 
struggle.  How  could  that  be  if  you  were  totally 
unconscious  ? " 

"  It's  difficult  to  explain.  When  I  came  to 
I  felt  it.  I  had  a  feeling  of  having  been  rent." 

"  Oh— yes." 

"  Did  anyone  come  for  you? "  he  repeated. 

"  How  can  I  say?  " 

He  looked  steadily  at  her. 

"  Did  you  hear  any  voices  you  recognised? " 

After  a  pause  she  replied, 

"  I  wish  to  be  perfectly  truthful." 

"  Of  course,  of  course." 

"  I  did  hear  a  voice  which  was  not  unlike 
the  voice  of  someone — I — I  have  been  closely 
connected  with.  But  it  only  said  a  very  few 
words." 

"  It  might  say  more  another  time.  You 
seemed  to  bring  power." 

"  How  can  I  bring  power? " 

"  It  is  all  as  much  of  a  mystery  to  me  as 
it  can  be  to  you,  Mrs  Marden.  I  am  a  poor 
ignorant  man.  I  don't  pretend  to  understand 
these  mysteries." 

'  Why  should  you  be  picked  out  to  be  used 
by  the  dead?  " 

'*  I  could  not  tell  you.  '  The  greatest  scientists 
could  not  tell  you." 


100  MRS  HARDEN 

He  was  silent.    At  last  he  said, 

"  Will  you  come  again? " 

"  If  you'll  allow  me  I  will  let  you  know." 

"  Certainly.  I  should  like  to  be  the  means 
of  helping  you  as  I  have  helped  others." 

"  Thank  you." 

They  parted  without  any  mention  of  money. 
Peter  Orwyn  went  down  to  the  street  door 
with  Mrs  Marden  and  helped  her  into  the  wait- 
ing taxicab.  Just  before  the  cab  drove  away 
she  looked  at  him  from  the  darkness  of  the 
interior.  She  could  see  his  face  and  broad 
figure  distinctly,  for  the  night  was  not  very 
dark.  There  was  nothing  mysterious  about 
him.  Certainly  he  made  no  effort  to  look  un- 
usual. There  was  even  something  that  sug- 
gested honesty  in  his  businesslike  costume,  neat, 
well  cut,  carefully  brushed  and  tended.  A  stock- 
broker dressed  in  much  the  same  way.  As  she 
looked  he  bowed,  in  a  simple  sort  of  manner 
without  pomposity.  Then  the  cab  drove  off. 

What  was  this  man?  Either  he  was  a  rascal, 
a  clever  trickster  making  money  out  of  the 
misery  of  yearning  and  credulous  people,  or 
he  was  a  being  with  peculiar,  not  yet  understood 
powers,  of  which  he  himself  knew  very  little, 
a  being  not  unique  perhaps,  but  exceptional, 
with  strange  faculties,  with  an  organisation  quite 


ROBERT  HICHENS  101 

unlike  that  of  most  of  his  fellows.  He  neither 
looked  nor  seemed  at  all  like  a  rascal.  Even 
Mrs  Marden's  naturally  strong  prejudice 
against  those  whom  she  had  always  thought  of 
as  vulgar  frauds  did  not  enable  her  to  dislike 
Orwyn,  or  to  hold  him  in  contempt.  But  the 
floating  tambourine,  the  whining  concertina, 
suggesting  sailors  having  a  jollification  in  a 
public  house — the  blatant  rattle,  the  rappings, 
the  lights — what  else  but  trickery  could  have 
produced  the  childish  phenomena  of  the  night? 
She  dismissed  them  from  her  mind  as  absurd, 
contemptible,  even  disgusting,  and  thought  of 
the  so-called  messages  which  had  come.  Those 
from  "  Willie "  had  been  ordinary,  not  silly, 
not  common,  but  such  as  it  would  be  very  easy 
to  invent.  '  Willie  "  had  spoken — or  Orwyn  had 
spoken — comfortable  words  to  Lady  Terrerton, 
had  touched  on  his  happiness,  his  activities,  the 
necessity  of  the  sacrifice  of  all  the  young  fellows 
who  had  given  their  bodies  to  the  grave  for  their 
country.  It  would  not  be  at  all  difficult  for  a 
very  ordinary  mind  to  think  of  such  messages. 

And  then  there  had  been  the  voice!  It 
certainly  had  resembled  the  voice  of  Ronald. 
When  first  it  had  spoken  in  the  dark  saying 
''Mother!"  urgently,  Mrs  Marden  had  with 
difficulty  kept  silent  and  motionless.  For  a 


102  MRS  HARDEN 

moment  she  had  felt  that  Ronald  was  with 
her,  had  something  of  vital  importance  to  say 
to  her,  and  when  the  voice  had  spoken  again 
it  had  still  seemed  akin  to  the  voice  of  her 
boy.  But  now  she  said  to  herself  that  young 
officers,  like  public  school  boys,  like  Oxford 
undergraduates,  are  imitative.  She  had  often 
noticed  this  passion  for  imitation  in  them  and 
laughed  at  it  gaily.  Ronald  and  his  comrades 
had  dressed  in  the  same  sort  of  way,  had  worn 
their  hats,  when  in  mufti,  at  a  similar  angle, 
had  cut  their  moustaches  to  the  same  length,  had 
affected  the  same  kind  of  gait.  They  had  even 
all  stared  with  an  expression  typical  of  the 
regiment  in  their  young  eyes,  and  their  voices, 
their  intonations,  their  ways  of  drawling,  of 
clipping  their  words,  had  been  absurdly  alike. 
Other  people  besides  herself  had  heard  arid 
could  recognise  at  once  the  young  Guardsman's 
special  way  of  speaking.  Many  people  with 
even  a  moderate  gift  of  mimicry  no  doubt  could 
easily  imitate  it.  Peter  Orwyn  might  be  a 
clever  mimic,  capable  of  reproducing  the 
Guardsman's  typical  voice.  Was  she  going  to 
be  such  a  fool  as  to  be  taken  in  by  a  trick  of 
that  kind? 

And  yet  a  clever  man  like  Hammond  be- 
lieved that  Peter  Orwyn  possessed  some  strange 


ROBERT  HICHENS  103 

power,  which  was  worthy  of  investigation.  And 
he  had  told  her  that  several  people  had  affirmed 
their  belief  that  from  Orwyn's  lips  had  is- 
sued the  voices  of  their  dead  relations  and 
friends. 

"But  people  will  believe  anything!"  Mrs 
Marden  said  to  herself,  repeating  the  words 
that  were  becoming  almost  a  formula  in  her 
mind.  "  One  cannot  take  their  evidence  as 
truth.  Nobody's  word  on  such  matters  can  be 
implicitly  trusted.  One  must  investigate  and 
judge  for  oneself." 

And  then  abruptly,  as  if  in  a  hurry,  her 
mind  added,  "  But  there's  nothing  in  it  all. 
It  is  all  trickery,  nonsense,  a  means  of  making 
money." 

Making  money!  But  she  had  not  paid  Peter 
Orwyn  anything.  Well,  she  would  arrange 
about  that  with  Lady  Terrerton. 

When  she  was  shut  in  at  home,  she  sat  up 
for  a  long  while  by  the  fire  in  her  bedroom. 
The  "  sitting "  had  acted  upon  her  nervous 
system.  She  felt  painfully  and  unnaturally 
alert,  bristling  with  a  sort  of  feverish  vitality. 
And  there  came  to  her  a  great  longing  to  apply 
some  drastic  test  to  Peter  Orwyn.  She  did  not 
believe  in  him.  That  was  impossible.  And  yet 
somehow  she  did  not  feel  that  he  was  a  dis- 


104  MRS  MARDEN 

honest  rascal.  Possibly  he  possessed  some  ex- 
traordinary faculties  which  were  purely  physi- 
cal, and  which  enabled  him  to  levitate  inani- 
mate objects,  and  to  cause  rappings  on  walls 
and  pieces  of  furniture.  Possibly,  when  self- 
hypnotised,  he  was  moved  to  speak  with  odd 
voices  and  could  not  help  himself.  And  from 
those  sitting  with  him  he  might  easily  draw 
suggestions.  She,  for  instance,  had  of  course 
been  thinking  about  Ronald  that  evening  and 
might  have  conveyed  to  Orwyn  some  of  her 
knowledge  of  Ronald.  And  then  Orwyn  might 
have  been  moved  to  speak  as  he  did.  The  words 
had  been  quite  ordinary,  just  the  sort  of  thing 
that  anyone  might  have  invented  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment.  It  was  the  voice  which  had 
impressed  her  and  which  now  she  could  not  get 
out  of  her  mind. 

Suddenly  she  realised  that  the  seance  in  which 
she  had  just  taken  part  had  meant  more  to  her 
than  the  service  which  she  had  attended  in 
the  early  days  of  the  war.  She  had  come  away 
from  the  church  with  a  strong  feeling  of  de- 
tachment from  Protestantism.  But  had  she 
come  away  from  Hornton  Street  with  an 
equally  strong  feeling  of  detachment  from 
spiritualism?  In  church  she  had  said  to  her- 
self, "  This  is  no  good  to  me,"  and  her  brain 


ROBERT  HICHEXS  105 

had  rejected  the  teachings  of  the  church  and 
any  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer.  Now  again 
she  said,  to  herself,  of  spiritualism  this  time, 
"This  is  no  good  to  me!"  But  she  did  not 
repent  of  having  gone  to  Hornton  Street  as 
she  had  repented  of  having  gone  to  church. 
That  marked  a  subtle  difference  between  two 
states  of  unbelief.  She  had  never  wished  to 
test  the  melancholy  clergyman  who  had  said, 
"  We  must  welcome  the  war."  But  she  did 
wish  to  test  Peter  Orwyn. 

As  she  sat  by  the  fire  in  the  dead  of  the 
night  alone — terribly  alone — in  the  silent  house, 
which  would  never  again  be  the  home  of  her 
boy,  her  woman's  mind  sought  for  a  means 
by  which  Peter  Orwyn  might  be  tested,  a 
means  by  which  she  could  prove  whether  he 
really  believed  that  the  so-called  dead  still  lived, 
still  concerned  themselves  about  those  whom 
they  had  loved  while  on  earth,  still  were  able 
to  speak  to  them,  or  whether  he  was  a  trickster 
throwing  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  credulous  for 
the  sake  of  mere  money-making.  And  presently 
she  knew  she  had  found  the  means.  Love  is 
drastically  sincere.  Find  in  any  human  being 
a  deep  love  and  you  find  at  the  same  time 
absolute  sincerity.  Peter  Orwyn  loved  his 
soldier  son  deeply.  Mrs  Marden  knew  that. 


106  MRS  HARDEN 

Orwyn  might  be  tested  through  his  love  for 
his  son. 

She  looked  into  the  fire  and  remembered  the 
fleeting  expression  of  agony  which  she  had  seen 
in  his  eyes  when  she  had  spoken  of  the  possi- 
bility of  his  boy  being  killed  in  the  war  as 
Ronald  had  been  killed.  Had  she  perhaps  al- 
ready applied  the  test  to  Orwyn  and  had  it 
proved  him  to  be  insincere  as  a  spiritualist? 
She  could  not  be  certain.  For  there  was  some 
sense  in  what  Lady  Terrerton  had  said  to  her 
about  the  natural  human  dread  of  physical 
separation  from  a  loved  one.  She  had  appeared 
to  condemn  it,  perhaps,  but  she  had  known  at 
once  that  it  held  truth.  Yet,  if  Orwyn  were 
sincere  in  the  belief  which  he  proclaimed  and 
which  he  tried  to  put  into  others,  he  could  not 
tremble  for  his  son's  safety  as  the  atheist,  or 
even  as  the  agnostic,  must  tremble  for  the  safety 
of  a  loved  one  exposed  to  incessant  danger. 

"  If  his  eldest  son  were  to  be  killed  I  should 
very  soon  know  whether  Orwyn  is  a  fraud  or 
genuine,"  Mrs  Marden  said  to  herself. 

She  shuddered  as  she  realised  that  for  a 
moment  she  had  almost  wished  another  to  suffer 
as  she  suffered.  But  she  longed  to  know  the 
truth  of  Peter  Orwyn.  Whether  she  would 
go  to  him  again  she  had  not  decided. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  107 

A  clock  on  the  chimney-piece  chimed  once. 

She  had  been  sitting  up  by  the  fire  for  more 
than  two  hours.  How  quickly  the  time  had 
gone  by!  She  got  up  and  went  towards  the 
bed.  Then  for  a  moment  she  hesitated.  She 
was  considering  whether  she  would  kneel  down 
and  try  to  pray.  But  suddenly  the  whine  of 
the  medium's  concertina,  the  tinkle  of  the  tam- 
bourine's bells,  were  again  in  her  ears.  She  did 
not  kneel,  but  quickly  switched  off  the  light 
and  got  into  bed. 

And  there  she  lay  still  and  thought  of  the 
voice,  i 


CHAPTER  V 

MRS  MARDEN  did  visit  Peter  Orwyn  again. 
She  felt  that  she  was  weak  even  foolish  in  doing 
so.  She  was  secretly  almost  ashamed  of  herself. 
But  life  gaped  before  her  like  the  void,  black, 
horrible,  empty,  and  anything  that  for  an  hour 
or  two  distracted  her  thoughts,  diverted  her 
mind  from  lonely  self -contemplation  was  a  little 
help  to  her. 

The  second  time  she  visited  Hornton  Street 
the  same  sitters  were  present  with  her,  and  the 
manifestations  which  took  place  were  very  simi- 
lar to  those  at  the  first  seance.  But  they  were 
supplemented  by  two  more  definite  exhibitions 
of  the  powers  of  the  medium. 

Peter  Orwyn  entered  the  cabinet,  and  pres- 
ently against  the  darkness  immediately  in  front 
of  it  a  luminous  face  became  visible.  It  was 
not  very  distinct  and  was  surrounded  by  white 
wrappings.  The  complexion  was  colourless. 
No  hair  was  shown  except  upon  the  upper 
lip,  where  there  was  a  darkness  like  a  closely 
clipped  very  short  moustache  such  as  soldiers 
wear.  The  eyes  looked  like  two  vague  hollows 

108 


ROBERT  HICHENS  109 

in  the  head.  At  first  no  words  came  from  the 
pale  and  vaguely  defined  lips. 

"It's  Willie!"  Lady  Terrerton  exclaimed, 
in  a  voice  half  choked  with  emotion. 

But  the  face  turned  in  Mrs  Marden's  direc- 
tion and  a  whispering  voice  breathed  "  Ronald  ". 

The  face  remained  visible  at  an  altitude  of 
perhaps  some  five  feet  ten  inches  above  the 
floor  for  about  a  minute  after  the  voice  had 
spoken  and  then  vanished. 

For  a  long  time  they  sat  in  a  silence  which 
was  broken  at  last  by  a  faint  sound  like  a 
prolonged  and  tremulous  sigh.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  soft  rustling  as  of  drapery,  and  then 
Mrs  Marden  felt  something  like  a  very  small, 
very  soft  hand  brushing  her  cheek  lightly.  She 
sat  quite  still,  holding  her  breath.  The  hand, 
if  it  were  a  hand,  touched  her  twice  and  surely 
with  tenderness  as  a  child  touches  its  mother. 
There  was  a  rustling  noise  succeeded  by  a  sigh. 
Then  a  little  wind  seemed  to  stir  in  the  room 
and  to  die  away  gently. 

Soon  afterwards  Orwyn's  deep  voice  asked 
for  the  lights  to  be  switched  on  and  the  sitting 
was  at  an  end. 

On  this  occasion  Orwyn  did  not  invite  Mrs 
Marden  to  stay  behind  when  the  others  pre- 
pared to  go,  and  she  went  downstairs  with  Lady 


110  MRS  HARDEN 

Terrerton  and  the  two  men.  She  had  come  in 
her  own  car,  a  large  one,  and  she  asked  her  com- 
panions if  they  would  go  back  with  her  to 
Hans  Place,  to  take  coffee. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you 
about  what  has  happened  to-night,"  she  said,  in 
explanation  of  her  invitation.  "  It's  not  much 
after  ten  o'clock.  But  perhaps  you  have  other 
things  to  do." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  must  go  home,"  said  Lady 
Terrerton,  with  a  sort  of  tremulous  stiffness 
which  surprised  Mrs  Marden.  "  I  feel  very 
tired  to-night.  It  was  a  very  fatiguing  sitting, 
I  think.  The  power  seemed  dissipated  some- 
how. I  felt  as  if  there  were  struggling  forces 
at  work.  Good-night,  Evelyn.  Good-night,  Mr 
Burnley — Mr  Hammond." 

And  she  got  abruptly  into  the  taxicab  which 
was  waiting  for  her  and  drove  away. 

The  two  men  said  they  would  go  to  Hans 
Place,  and  they  went  there  with  Mrs  Marden. 
They  said  very  little  on  the  way,  and  what  they 
did  say  had  no  relation  to  the  sitting  just 
ended. 

Hanson  opened  the  door  and  did  not  succeed 
in  hiding  an  expression  of  surprise  when  he 
saw  the  two  visitors  with  his  mistress. 

"  I  want  coffee  for  three  in  the  library,  please, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  111 

Hanson.  And  bring  some  cigars  from  the 
cabinet." 

"  Yes,  Ma'am." 

The  "  cabinet "  contained  several  brands  of 
cigars  selected  by  Ronald  and  had  not  been 
touched  since  his  death. 

"  Do  take  off  your  coats,"  continued  Mrs 
Marden  to  the  two  men.  "I'll  just  leave  my 
things  in  my  room." 

She  opened  the  library  door  and  went  quickly 
upstairs. 

When  Burnley  and  Hammond  were  together 
in  the  library  the  latter  said, 

"  Lady  Terrerton  was  very  upset  to-night." 

"  Yes,"  said  Burnley. 

He  put  one  foot  on  the  fender  and  looked 
into  the  fire. 

"  Of  course  she's  a  mass  of  nerves,"  he  added. 

"  How  absurd  human  beings  are  even  in  the 
most  intense  moments!"  observed  Hammond, 
raising  his  crescent-shaped  eyebrows. 

Burnley  half  turned  and  shot  a  penetrating 
glance  at  him. 

'To-night — for  instance?"  he  asked. 

'  Yes,  to-night.  Of  course  you  realised  that 
Lady  Terrerton  was  jealous  of  our  hostess. 
That  was  why  she  wouldn't  come  here  with  us." 

"  She  may  really  have  been  tired." 


112  MRS  HARDEN 

"  She  was  horribly  jealous." 

"  But  it  was  she  who  brought  Mrs  Marden 
to  Orwyn." 

"  And  probably  now  she  wishes  she  hadn't. 
My  God,  Burnley,  how  absurd  we  all  are! " 

He  lifted  his  small  hands  in  a  gesture  that 
was  almost  despairing.  '  We  fight  over  every- 
thing, even  over  the  other  world." 

The  sound  of  someone  coming  down  the  stairs 
was  audible,  and  Hammond's  face  suddenly  as- 
sumed its  usual  expression  of  energetic  and  self- 
possessed  gravity. 

Mrs  Marden  came  into  the  room  looking  pre- 
occupied and  tense.  She  had  taken  off  her  hat 
and  fur  coat.  She  wore  a  plain  black  gown 
high  to  the  throat.  Her  hair  was  slightly  dis- 
ordered. Evidently  she  had  not  looked  into  the 
glass  after  removing  her  hat. 

"  Do  sit  down,"  she  said,  shutting  the  door. 

Her  guests  obeyed. 

"  It's  a  pity  Lady  Terrerton  couldn't  come 
too,"  she  went  on,  sitting  on  a  big  sofa  and 
quickly  arranging  a  cushion  behind  her.  "  I'm 
in  deep  mourning  and  see  scarcely  anyone.  But 
I  wanted  very  much  to  speak  to  you  all  about 
Mr  Orwyn.  We  cannot  remain  strangers  if  we 
sit  together,  I  think.  It  seems  to  me  unnatural. 
There  is  something  to  me  almost  shameless  in 


ROBERT  HICHENS  113 

our  sitting  together  without  knowing  anything 
of  each  other's  real  sentiments  and  opinions, 
without  in  fact " 

She  broke  off  and  looked  at  them  both  with 
intensity. 

"  Do  you  understand  what  I  mean,  how  I 
feel  about  it? "  she  asked  them. 

"  I  think  I  do,"  said  Burnley. 

"  Our  intimacy  so  far  has  been  rather  like  the 
intimacy  of  castaways  adrift  in  a  boat  on  the 
ocean,  who  knew  little  of  each  other  on  board 
ship,"  said  Hammond. 

At  this  moment  Hanson  came  in  with  coffee 
on  a  tray  and  two  sorts  of  cigars. 

'  The  cigars  are  good,  I  know,"  said  Mrs 
Harden.  "  Ronald,  my  boy,  chose  them  and 
he  was  a  fine  judge." 

She  saw  Hanson's  pale  eyes  fixed  mourn- 
fully upon  her.  When  he  had  left  the  room 
she  gave  her  guests  coffee. 

"Do  smoke!"  she  said. 

The  two  men  lighted  their  cigars. 

Mrs  Marden,  who  had  made  a  great  effort  in 
going  to  Hornton  Street  a  second  time  and  sit- 
ting with  strangers — for  she  scarcely  knew 
Arthur  Burnley — was  now  carried  on,  as  if  by 
its  impetus,  into  a  determined  unreserve  which 
astonished  herself. 


114  MRS  HARDEN 

*  You  spoke  of  castaways  on  the  ocean,  Mr 
Hammond,"  she  said.  '  Well,  I  am  one.  That 
is  why  Lady  Terrerton  made  me  come  to  Mr 
Orwyn's  house,  that  is  the  explanation  of  my 
joining  in  these  practices.  My  boy,  who  was 
everything  to  me,  was  killed  in  France  the 
other  day.  I  don't  care  really  for  anyone  else. 
I  have  no  religion.  My  occupation  till  he  died 
was  pleasure.  It's  true  I  did  some  so-called 
work.  I  managed  the  programme  and  souvenir 
selling  at  most  of  the  smart  charity  matinees. 
But  pleasure  was  my  life.  Now  I  do  nothing. 
Your  word  castaway  covers  me.  But  you — and 
you,  Mr  Burnley,  why  do  you  go  to  Mr 
Orwyn's?  I  daresay  I  am  indiscreet  to-night, 
but  I  can't  help  it.  I  think  we  ought  to  know 
each  other's  real  opinions  about  the  medium  and 
what  happens.  Of  course  Diana  Terrerton  be- 
lieves in  everything.  But — you  two?" 

"  I  study  movements,"  said  Hammond. 
'  There  is  at  present  a  movement  of  our  world 
towards  occultism.  All  over  London  now  there 
are  '  circles  ',  One  hears  of  Lord  Arborough's 
*  circle ',  of  Mrs  Enthoven's  '  circle ',  and  so 
on.  The  religions — at  least  this  is  my  opinion; 
it  may  be  wrong — are  toppling  down.  Thou- 
sands who  never  before  dreamed  of  doubting 
what  their  pastors  and  masters  told  them  was 


ROBERT  HICHENS  115 

true  are  sceptical  now.  The  influence  of  the 
Bishops  is  derisory.  The  clergy  clutch  at  the 
skirts  of  those  who  are  fleeing  from  them. 
Meanwhile  proprietors  of  weekly  papers  and 
writers  of  sexual  romances  discover  God  for 
the  first  time,  and,  raising  themselves  upon  tip- 
toe, bawl  out  the  marvellous  event  to  the  public. 
Can  one  stand  aside  and  say  there  is  nothing 
in  this  unorthodox  human  impulse  towards  the 
unseen?  Is  it  merely  superstition  taking  the 
place  of  religion,  a  kicking  out  of  the  priests 
to  make  room  for  the  mediums?  Is  it  neurosis 
seeking  for  some  alleviation  of  its  misery  in 
change?  I  think  that  there  is  something  else 
besides  folly  in  almost  every  human  manifesta- 
tion. Why  should  this  widespread  movement 
towards  spiritualism  be  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule?  Was  Crookes  a  fool?  Are 
Lodge,  Doyle,  and  other  men  of  their  calibre 
fools?  They  certainly  are  not.  This  war,  which 
is  doing  so  many  strange  things  for  the  world, 
is  turning  frivolous  and  hitherto  materially 
minded  men  and  women  towards  the  beyond.  I 
turn  with  them.  Euripides  said,  '  Who  knows 
if  life  be  not  death  and  death  be  not  life  ? ' 
And  I  say,  too — who  knows  ?  " 

"And  you,  Mr  Burnley,  what  do  you  say?" 
asked  Mrs  Marden. 


116  MRS  HARDEN 

Arthur  Burnley  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth 
and  knocked  off  the  ash  slowly. 

"  I  believe  in  spiritualism,"  he  said.  "  But 
not  because  of  the  war.  I  have  believed  in  it 
for  years." 

'  Then  you  think  Peter  Orwyn  an  abso- 
lutely genuine  and  sincere  man?  " 

"  I  do." 

Mrs  Marden  looked  towards  Hammond  who 
was  sipping  his  coffee. 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  him?"  said 
Hammond. 

"  I — I  can't  believe  in  it  all.  But  I  am 
naturally  a  sceptic,  I  think.  Probably  I  have 
no  imagination." 

Hammond   smiled. 

"  I  didn't  mean  it  sarcastically,"  she  said. 
"  But  imagination  seems  to  me  to  help  people 
very  often  over  difficult  ground.  And  this  is 
very  difficult  ground  to  me." 

"Yes?"  said  Burnley,  in  an  encouraging 
voice. 

"  Soon  after  the  war  broke  out  when  I  was 
in  great  anxiety  about  my  boy,"  she  continued, 
"  I  went  to  church." 

"  Did  it  help  you?  "  said  Burnley. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  felt  that  I  was  wasting  my 
time.  I'm  unable  to  believe  that  prayer  can 


ROBERT  HICHENS  117 

alter  or  bring  about  things.  And  in  much  the 
same  way  I'm  unable  to  believe  that  Mr 
Orwyn  can  cause  spirits  to  come  to  Hornton 
Street." 

'  Then  you  think  Orwyn  is  an  abominable 
impostor?"  said  Hammond. 

"  He  doesn't  seem  to  be  that  at  all,  and  that's 
the  confusing  part  for  me.  There  seems  to 
me  something  simple  and  genuine  in  Peter 
Orwyn." 

'There  is!"  said  Burnley.  "I  have  known 
him  a  long  time  and  I  respect  him." 

:<  What  do  you  think  about  him,  Mr 
Hammond? " 

'  The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  am  puzzled 
by  human  nature,"  he  answered.  "  I  like  Peter 
Orwyn,  but  I  couldn't  tell  you  half,  or  a 
quarter,  of  what  is  in  him,  good  or  bad.  Some 
of  him,  I  am  sure,  is  quite  genuine.  Tell  me, 
Mrs  Marden " — his  eyes  had  a  penetrating 
look  as  they  gazed  at  her — "  do  you  feel  about 
these  sittings  just  as  you  did  about  church,  that 
they  are  simply  a  waste  of  time? " 

"  I  don't  think  I  feel  quite  the  same." 

"What's  the  difference?" 

"  I  am  more  interested  in  the  sittings  than  I 
was  in  the  church  service." 

"But  how  can  you  be  interested  at  all  if  you 


118  MRS  MARDEN 

have  no  belief  at  all  in  the  genuine  character  of 
the  manifestations?" 

"  There — there  is  something  in  them,  perhaps, 
something  purely  physical,  or  something  that 
comes  from  the  subconscious  mind." 

"Ah!"  said  Burnley.  "People  nearly  al- 
ways begin  by  saying  that.  I  did.  I  was  sure 
the  whole  thing  could  be  explained,  that  every- 
thing that  happened  could  be  referred  to  us 
human  beings,  had  to  do  merely  with  powers 
in  ourselves  which  we  didn't  understand. 
Thought  reading,  self-hypnotism.  I  went 
through  it  all.  Anything  rather  than  believe 
that  spirits  can  communicate  with  us!  It's  very 
strange  how  we  struggle  against  what  might  be 
our  greatest  consolations.  Physical  starvation 
demands  to  be  fed,  but  spiritual  starvation, 
which  is  ten  times  worse,  very  often  refuses  the 
food  which  is  brought  by  the  ministering  angels. 
Go  on,  Mrs  Marden,  only  go  on.  Be  ob- 
stinate and  some  day  you  will  be  thank- 
ful." 

"  Please  tell  me  one  thing,"  she  said.  "  Have 
you  ever  lost  anyone  by  death,  anyone  whom 
you  loved  ? " 

'  Yes,"  he  said,  looking  down. 

"  And  you,  Mr  Hammond  ?  "  she  asked. 

"No,"   he  replied.     "But   I   have   suffered 


ROBERT  HICHENS  119 

from  the  losses  of  my  friends.     I  have  known 
the  sorrows  of  others." 

This  conversation  made  a  greater  impres- 
sion upon  Mrs  Marden  than  the  convictions  and 
assertions  of  Lady  Terrerton.  Hammond  and 
Arthur  Burnley  differed  no  doubt  in  their  out- 
looks, regarded  Orwyn  and  his  manifestations 
from  different  standpoints.  Hammond  was  the 
curious  enquirer,  Burnley  the  convinced  believer. 
But  from  both  men  came  to  her  an  impulse 
driving  her  n.  And  she  went  on. 

Enquiry  brought  her  the  information  from 
Lady  Terrerton  that  each  visit  to  Orwyn  cost 
a  guinea.  She  sent  him  at  once  a  cheque  for 
two  guineas.  While  she  was  writing  it  doubts 
assailed  her  again.  She  had  plenty  of  money, 
but  this  payment  disgusted  her,  disgusted  some- 
thing delicate  in  her  soul.  But  she  thought 
of  church  and  the  bag  going  round  while  the 
sidesmen — or  whatever  they  were  called — looked 
at  the  horizon.  All  food,  whether  destined  for 
stomach  or  spirit,  must  be  paid  for,  it  seemed. 
She  did  not  condemn  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury and  the  Pope  of  Rome;  she  had  no  right 
to  condemn  Peter  Orwyn.  As  Lady  Terrerton 
had  said  people  must  live,  and  taxation,  already 
very  high,  was  likely  to  go  higher.  But  she 


120  MRS  HARDEN 

wished  Peter  Orwyn  didn't  make  a  profession 
of  occultism. 

She  told  Miss  King  what  had  happened  in 
Hornton  Street  in  detail.  Miss  King  listened 
with  deep  interest  and  without  interrupting 
her. 

'  What's  your  opinion  about  it,  Miss  King?  " 
Mrs  Marden  asked,  when  she  had  finished. 

"  One  thing  strikes  me." 

"What  is  it?" 

'  When  the  face  appeared  Lady  Terrerton 
thought  it  was  her  son." 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  you  think  it  was  like  your  son's  face  ?  " 

'  There  was  a  suggestion  of — of  a  young 
soldier  in  it,  I  think.  But  I  could  not  have 
recognised  it.  And  I'm  sure  Lady  Terrerton 
couldn't." 

"  And  the  voice  which  spoke  to  you  on  both 
occasions?  " 

"  I  certainly  thought  it  resembled  my  son's 
way  of  speaking.  But — but  the  voices  and  the 
ways  of  speaking  of  young  officers  are  very 
much  alike,  I  think.  In  fact  I  know  they  are." 

She  paused,  then  added, 

"  I'm  not  so  credulous  as  Lady  Terrerton. 
Do  you  know  it  seems  almost  incredible  but  I 
am  sure  she  is  angry  with  me  because  the  face 


ROBERT  HICHENS  121 

which  came  was  not  for  her.  Oh,  how  absurd 
it  all  is!  One  feels  positively  ashamed." 

Suddenly  she  began  to  laugh — then  stopped. 

"  Oh,  what  wretched  paltry  creatures  we 
are !  "  she  ex^aimed.  "  Even  in  our  sorrows 
we  are  ridiculous.  We  are  ridiculous  in  every- 
thing. Human  dignity!  Is  there  such  a  thing? 
Where  is  it  then? " 

"  I  think  there  is  a  good  deal  of  it  to  be 
found  on  the  battlefields  of  France,"  said  Miss 
King  in  her  clear  quiet  voice.  "  And  also  on 
the  seas." 

Mrs  Marden's  white  cheeks,  where  lines  were 
beginning  to  show,  flushed. 

"  If  I  can  arrange  it  will  you  come  one  night 
to  a  sitting  with  Peter  Orwyn  ? "  she  said. 

'Yes;  I  should  like  to  very  much." 

"  He  can  know  nothing  about  you." 

"  Oh  no.  I  never  heard  of  him  till  you 
told  me." 

"  I'll  try  to  manage  it  later  on.  I  think  you 
have  a  very  clear  head  and  good  judgment. 
Lady  Terrerton  would  believe  anything,  and 
perhaps  I  am  too  much  the  other  way.  I  don't 
know.  It's  difficult  to  be  perfectly  balanced, 
especially  in  these  awful  times." 

Several  weeks  went  by.  The  cult  for  occult- 
ism, as  most  people  called  it,  increased  rapidly 


122  MRS  HARDEN 

in  London.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  take 
up  a  popular  newspaper  without  finding  some 
mention  of  it.  There  were  prosecutions  of 
fortune-tellers  and  hand-readers;  a  woman  who 
read  fates  in  a  crystal  ball  was  heavily  fined;  a 
man  who  kept  a  prayer  shop  was  exposed  in 
the  columns  of  the  most  widely  read  paper  in 
England.  Controversies  arose  between  those 
who  believed  in  New  Thought,  in  protective 
prayer,  paid  for  at  so  much  an  hour,  in  spirit- 
ualism, hand-reading,  crystal-gazing,  fortune- 
telling  by  cards,  and  those  who  were  bitterly 
contemptuous  of  both  new  faiths  and  ancient 
superstitions.  Scientists,  physicians,  clergymen, 
soldiers,  and  of  course  many  women  took  part  in 
the  clamour,  which  proved  at  least  one  thing, 
that  an  enormous  number  of  people  was  seeking 
solace  from  the  agony  of  the  war  not  in  ortho- 
dox religion  but  in  what  the  unbelievers  called 
"  mystery  mongering ".  And  among  these 
seekers  there  were  women  and  men  of  all 
classes,  of  all  types  of  intellect,  of  all  degrees 
of  education.  Sorrow,  fear,  anxiety,  longing, 
abolished  artificial  differences,  created  a  De- 
mocracy of  desire,  in  which  the  eternal  child 
that  dwells  in  the  toughest  fighting  man,  the 
most  complex  woman,  showed  its  eager  face 
plainly  and  made  its  voice  clearly  heard. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  123 

Prosecutions,  attacks,  the  diatribes  of  medical 
men,  Catholic  Priests,  Protestant  Clergymen, 
had  no  effect  on  the  increasing  band  of  those 
who  were  reaching  out  vaguely,  or  frantically, 
with  trembling  wonder,  or  imperious  determina- 
tion, or  mystical  reverence,  or  mere  crass  super- 
stition, towards  regions  where  war  and  death 
and  torture  were  not,  or  were  supposed  not  to 
be — the  human  intellect  probably  not  being  able 
to  conceive  of  another  world  tormented  as  ours 
is  tormented.  Ridicule  cannot  kill  faith,  and 
superstition  is  scarcely  less  tough  in  fibre  than 
faith,  though  the  one  is  sublime  and  the  other 
absurd.  So,  as  the  horrors  of  the  war  increased 
the  adherents  of  occultism  grew  in  number. 
Doctors  gravely  declared  that  neurosis  was 
spreading  like  an  epidemic.  Acute  social  ob- 
servers found  that  at  least  two  thirds  of  the 
people  they  came  in  contact  with  were  no 
longer  completely  sane.  The  clergy  feared 
that  the  power  of  the  Church  was  totter- 
ing. 

And  there  were  men  who  talked  of  a  new 
religion  which  would  grow  up  on  a  basis  not 
of  faith  but  of  ascertained  facts. 

And — Mrs  Harden?  In  the  midst  of  the 
turmoil  she  had  almost  stealthily  advanced  along 
the  mysterious  path. 


124  MRS  MARDEN 

From  Lady  Terrerton  she  had  become  es- 
tranged through  no  fault  of  hers.  Her  poor 
friend  once  so  anxious  to  hand  on  her  blessings 
to  a  sister  in  misfortune,  had  evidently  mis- 
calculated her  powers  of  unselfishness.  They 
did  not,  it  seemed,  extend  beyond  the  limits  of 
this  world.  This  fact  quickly  became  obvious 
in  subsequent  sittings  which  took  place  in  Horn- 
ton  Street.  On  more  than  one  occasion  Lady 
Terrerton  was  unable  to  control  her  bitterness 
when  manifestations  occurred  which  had  nothing 
to  do  with  her,  but  apparently  everything  to  do 
with  Mrs  Marden.  It  was  evident  that  grief 
and  the  effort  to  assuage  it  in  seances  had  pro- 
duced in  her  a  disagreeable  form  of  hysteria. 
And  finally  she  refused  to  "  sit "  any  more  in 
the  company  of  Mrs  Marden,  whom  she  in- 
directly accused  of  laying  claim  to  messages, 
and  even  to  materialisations,  which  were  ob- 
viously intended  for  herself. 

The  whole  matter  was  painful  and  also 
ridiculous.  It  was  impossible  for  anyone  with 
a  sense  of  humour  to  argue  or  protest  about  it. 
Mrs  Marden  did  neither.  She  quietly  said  she 
would  not  join  Lady  Terrerton's  "  circle "  in 
Hornton  Street  again,  and  drove  home  scarcely 
knowing  whether  to  weep  or  to  laugh  over  poor 
human  nature. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  125 

On  that  evening  she  resolved  to  give  up  the 
whole  thing.  She  felt  painfully  disgusted  and 
humiliated  by  the  scene  she  had  passed  through. 
It  seemed  to  bring  Peter  Orwyn,  all  that  hap- 
pened through  him  or  by  means  of  him,  and  all 
those  who  sat  with  him,  into  contempt.  Mrs 
Mar  den's  sense  of  humour  laughed  certainly, 
but  the  laugh  was  bitter;  and  her  self-respect 
writhed  almost  abjectly.  She  said  to  herself 
that  she  had  been  a  fool  and  that  now  her  folly 
had  been  chastised  not  with  whips  but  with 
scorpions.  Well,  she  had  had  her  lesson.  Now 
there  was  an  end  of  it.  She  was  thankful  to  be 
released  from  the  compulsion  of  practices  which 
were  detestable  because  really  they  made  a 
mock  of  the  deepest  longings,  the  most  yearn- 
ing aspirations  of  suffering  humanity.  She 
thanked  Diana  Terrerton  for  having  brought 
her  to  her  senses. 

But  presently  she  found  that  she  missed  the 
evenings  in  Hornton  Street.  The  seances  had 
taken  place  twice  a  week,  on  Tuesdays  and 
Fridays.  When  these  nights  recurred  Mrs 
Marden,  thinking  of  the  circle  in  Peter  Orwyn's 
house,  felt  jealous.  She  sat  alone  in  Hans 
Place  wondering  what  was  happening  in  that 
narrow  upstairs  room  with  the  locked  door.  A 
strange  feeling  of  desertion,  of  much  greater, 


126  MRS  HARDEN 

almost  unbearable  loneliness,  took  possession 
of  her.  She  realised  that  she  felt  the  loss  of 
her  boy  much  more  now  that  she  no  longer 
visited  Hornton  Street.  And  this  made  her 
realise  something  else,  that  the  sittings  had 
meant  more  to  her  than  she  had  ever  allowed 
even  to  herself.  Then  she  thought  minutely 
and  steadily  of  all  that  had  happened  in  the 
series  of  sittings,  and  presently  she  knew  what 
it  was  that  she  missed  now  that  she  had  broken 
away  from  the  circle. 

It  was  a  voice,  the  voice  which  had  spoken 
out  of  the  dark  at  her  first  sitting,  and  which 
had  said  at  least  a  few  words  at  every  succeed- 
ing sitting.  Gradually  she  had  come  to  care 
for  this  voice,  to  wait  for  it  anxiously  through 
the  other  demonstrations.  And  many  times  she 
had  spoken  to  it,  had  carried  on  brief  dialogues 
with  it.  And  each  time  this  voice  had  seemed  to 
her  to  resemble  more  closely  the  voice  of  her 
dead  boy.  She  had  never  acknowledged  a  belief 
that  this  voice  was  indeed  her  boy's,  or  that  what 
it  said  came  from  him  in  another  world.  The 
most  that  she  had  ever  allowed  was  that  the 
whole  matter  was  very  strange  and  that  she  was 
unable  to  understand  it.  And  she  had  been 
completely  sincere.  For  she  had  never  even  to 


ROBERT  HICHENS  127 

herself,  in  her  most  intense  moments  of  longing, 
said,  "  I  believe  Ronald  comes  back  to  me 
through  Peter  Orwyn." 

Ronald  was  dead.  He  must  be  dead,  all  of 
him.  Or  if  he  were  not  all  dead  then  what- 
ever was  left  of  him — and  surely  there  could  be 
nothing — was  utterly  remote.  Nevertheless  she 
missed  terribly  the  seances  in  Hornton  Street, 
missed  hearing  that  voice  in  the  dark,  missed 
her  conversations  with  it. 

Why? 

Perhaps  she,  too,  was  one  of  those  many 
women  who  find  comfort  in  nonsense.  Once 
she  had  found  comfort  in  wearing  new  hats 
and  selling  souvenirs  in  theatres.  She  thought 
she  was  utterly  changed  now.  But  was  she 
essentially  changed?  Or  was  she  still  a  fool, 
only  a  fool  in  a  different  way? 

In  those  conversations  the  voice  had  told  her 
various  things,  but  there  had  been  nothing  deep, 
nothing  mystical,  in  what  it  had  said.  The 
mind  shown  had  been  quite  ordinary.  But  then 
Ronald's  had  been  quite  an  ordinary  mind! 
The  voice  had  really  talked  much  as  a  young 
man  of  Ronald's  type  might  have  talked  when 
something  had  made  him  unusually  serious,  when 
fate  had  removed  his  ordinary  pleasures  and 


128  MRS  HARDEN 

activities  from  him.  And — she  thought  now — • 
it  was  perhaps  just  that  ordinariness  which  had 
impressed  her. 

Evidently  she  must  have  been  impressed  or 
she  could  not  now  feel  as  she  did,  feel  this 
intense  longing  to  go  back  to  Hornton  Street. 

Peter  Orwyn  did  not  communicate  with  her. 
She  did  not  see  Lady  Terrerton  any  more. 
Cecil  Hammond  and  Arthur  Burnley  had 
dropped  out  of  her  life  as  abruptly  as  they  had 
come  into  it. 

Loneliness  increased  upon  her.  But  the 
obstinacy  which  was  part  of  her  for  some  time 
prevented  her  from  yielding  to  her  desire.  She 
was  fighting  what  she  called  (to  herself)  her 
own  folly. 

"I  won't  be  one  of  the  silly  women!"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  I  may  have  been  silly  when 
I  was  happy,  but  I  won't  be  silly  in  my 
misery." 

And  she  tried  to  go  on  somehow.  She  began 
to  see  a  few  people.  She  went  about  a  little. 
Now  and  then  she  attended  a  concert.  But  she 
never  went  to  a  theatre.  Various  friends  who 
thought  she  was  "  getting  over  "  her  loss  tried 
to  persuade  her  to  take  up  again  her  "  work  "  at 
the  matinees.  She  was  even  asked  to  appear 
as  "  The  Mother  "  in  a  war  pageant  at  a  great 


ROBERT  HICHENS  129 

music  hall.  But  she  refused  all  these  requests. 
She  couldn't  go  back  to  her  former  way  of  life. 
But  she  seemed  unable  to  go  forward  into  any 
other  way  of  life  that  was  worth  living.  So 
she  simply  stagnated. 

At  last,  however,  she  could  hold  out  no  longer. 
The  desire  to  see  Peter  Orwyn  again  over- 
powered her,  and,  still  contemptuous  of  her  own 
folly,  she  wrote  him  a  note  asking  him  to  come 
and  see  her  in  Hans  Place.  He  answered 
politely  fixing  a  time.  She  immediately  sent 
for  Miss  King,  and  begged  her  to  come  and 
meet  him. 

"  I  always  intended  to  take  you  to  a  seance, 
but  somehow  it  never  came  off,"  she  said. 
"  Lady  Terrerton  was  so  difficult  about  every- 
thing. But  I  think  you  are  very  clear-sighted. 
I  want  you  to  come  and  meet  Mr  Orwyn 
and  to  tell  me  exactly  what  you  think  of 
him." 

Miss  King  said  she  would  be  glad  to  come. 

"  I'll  see  him  first  for  a  few  minutes,"  said 
Mrs  Marden.  "  Come  at  a  quarter  to  five  on 
Friday.  He's  coming  about  half  past  four." 

On  the  Friday  when  Peter  Orwyn  walked 
into  the  room  with  his  rather  heavy  tread  Mrs 
•Marden  felt  almost  painfully  strung  up  and 
excited. 


130  MRS  HARDEN 

Orwyn  greeted  her  with  his  usual  quiet, 
earnest,  and  yet  matter-of-fact  manner  and 
made  no  allusion  to  the  break  in  their  inter- 
course. He  did  not  ask  her  why  she  had  sent 
for  him  or  show  any  eagerness  in  meeting  her 
again. 

After  a  few  commonplace  remarks  Mrs 
Marden  enquired  about  his  soldier  son. 

"  He's  been  made  Captain,"  said  Peter  Orwyn 
impressively.  "  He  joined  as  a  simple  private 
and  has  worked  his  way  up." 

"  How  splendid !  You  must  be  proud  of 
him." 

:<  I  am  indeed.  I  pray  for  him  every  day  and 
have  no  fear  at  all  for  his  safety." 

"  I  came  to  feel  rather  like  that  about  my 
boy,"  said  Mrs  Marden.  "  And  yet  he  was 
killed." 

'  Whatever  happens  to  Harry  I  shall  not  be 
disturbed  or  distressed,"  said  Orwyn  firmly. 
"  Even  if  he  were  to  be  killed  I  should  not  lose 
him." 

Mrs  Marden  sat  looking  fixedly  at  him.  She 
was  remembering  her  thought  by  the  fire  about 
the  test.  This  man  looked  very  sincere.  And 
surely  if  he  were  not  sincere  he  could  not  speak 
like  that  about  one  whom  he  certainly  loved  and 
who  must  be  often  in  danger. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  131 

"  You  would  lose  his  bodily  presence  for  so 
long  as  you  lived  on  earth,"  she  said.  "  Is 
that  nothing?  " 

"  It  is  a  great  deal.  And  yet  how  very  little 
when  we  remember  that  the  spirit  is  what  we 
love  in  anyone,  and  that  the  spirit  is  not  lost  to 
us." 

She  was  silent  and  moved  her  hands  restlessly. 
He  said  nothing  more  and  sat  still  looking  at 
her. 

"  Mr  Orwyn,  I  want  to  come  to  Hornton 
Street  again,"  she  said  at  length,  with  a  sort 
of  half-ashamed  reluctance. 

"Why?"  he  asked. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  and  I  miss  the  sit- 
tings." 

"  Do  you  look  upon  them  as  a  form  of 
diversion  then?"  he  said,  she  thought  rather 
severely. 

"  I  miss  them.  That  is  all  I  can  say.  Will 
you  allow  me  to  come  again? " 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  have  any  ob- 
jection. I  wish  to  be  helpful.  But  to  tell  the 
truth,  Mrs  Marden,  I  don't  quite  understand 
your  attitude  towards  me." 

'  I  wish  to  sit  with  you  again ;  but  not  with 
Lady  Terrerton  of  course — after  what  hap- 
pened." 


132  MRS  HARDEN 

"  Yes,  yes.  She  was  carried  away,  poor 
lady." 

"  I  wish  you  to  allow  me  to  bring  a  friend, 
a  Miss  King.  She  is  coming  here  in  a  moment." 

"  Is  she  a  believer?  " 

"  She  has  never  been  to  a  sitting.  She  be- 
lieves in  a  future  life." 

Orwyn  made  no  comment  on  this  but  said, 
after  a  slight  pause, 

"  My  impression  is  that  you  believe  much 
more  than  you  admit  to  yourself,  Mrs  Marden. 
I  think  you  are  one  of  those  who  struggle 
against  their  own  tendencies  to  believe,  even 
perhaps  against  their  own  secret  convictions 
as  if  those  convictions  were  enemies." 

'  Why  do  you  think  so?  "  she  said,  reddening. 

"  I  know  it  is  so !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  How  can  you  know?  " 

"  Because,  with  your  type  of  character  and 
brain,  if  it  were  not  so  you  would  not  wish 
to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  me.  If  you 
really  thought  me  an  impostor  you  would  have 
done  with  me  long  ago,  and  quite  rightly. 
Something  obstinate,  something  perverse  in  you, 
tries  not  to  believe,  but  you  do  believe." 

He  spoke  with  powerful  authority,  looking 
steadily  at  her. 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  spirits  play  the  con- 


ROBERT  HICHENS  133 

certina,"  she  said.     "  Why  should  they  do  such 
a  thing? " 

"  As  a  means  of  making  known  their  pres- 
ence." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  be  convinced  of  it  in 
such  a  way." 

"  What  is  it  that  draws  you  back  to  the 
sittings  then?  " 

She  looked  down.  The  flush  was  still  on  her 
face. 

"  It's  a — a  voice,"  she  murmured. 

"Yes?" 

"  I  miss  it.     I  seem  more  lonely  without  it." 

"  It  must  be  the  voice  of  your  son,"  he  said, 
with  deep  gravity.  '  Thank  God,  if  I  have 
been  enabled  to  be  the  channel  through  which 
it  has  uttered  words  of  comfort  to  you." 

"  I  don't  say  it  is.  I  don't  know  at  all— 
but  I  want  to  hear  it  again.  I " 

Before  she  could  say  anything  more  Miss 
King  was  announced. 

Mrs  Marden  saw  Orwyn  cast  a  penetrating 
glance  at  the  secretary  as  she  came  in.  He  was 
surely  a  shrewd  judge  of  character,  she  thought. 
She  introduced  him  to  Miss  King  and  they 
talked  together  for  a  few  minutes.  Peter  Orwyn 
was  rather  communicative,  but  Mrs  Marden 
noticed  that  Miss  King,  while  seemingly  frank 


134  MRS  HARDEN 

and  friendly  in  manner  and  words,  gave  no 
information  about  herself,  her  circumstances, 
her  private  affairs,  to  the  medium.  When  he 
spoke  of  his  sons  she  listened  with  sympathy 
but  no  mention  of  relations  or  friends  came 
from  her.  She  was  evidently  on  her  guard. 

Presently  Orwyn's  curious  profession  was  al- 
luded to  and  Mrs  Marden  asked  if  a  sitting 
could  be  arranged  for  her  and  Miss  King. 
Orwyn  looked  rather  dubious. 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  think  there  would 
he  enough  power,"  he  said.  "  I  should  need  a 
fourth  person  to  complete  the  circle.  Perhaps 
Mr  Burnley  would  come.  You  would  have  no 
objection,  I  suppose?" 

"No,"  said  Mrs  Marden.  "I  like  Mr 
Burnley." 

"  Very  well.     I  will  see  if  I  can  arrange  it." 

And  he  turned  the  conversation  to  the  sub- 
ject of  the  war.  It  seemed  to  Mrs  Marden  that 
he  was  perhaps  trying  to  discover  whether  Miss 
King  had  suffered  any  loss  through  it.  He 
did  not  ask  her  any  questions,  or  show  any 
curiosity,  but  he  gave  Miss  King  two  or  three 
openings  for  information  which  she  did  not  take 
advantage  of. 

When  he  had  said  good-bye  and  gone  away 
Mrs  Marden  said, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  135 

"Do  you  like  him?" 

"  I  think  I  do." 

"Does  he  inspire  you  with  confidence?" 

"  He  looks  a  genuine  sort  of  man." 

"  I  noticed  that  you  were  very  careful  not 
to  tell  him  anything  about  yourself.  That  was 
wise  of  you.  Did  you  think  he  was  trying  to 
find  out  anything?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  was.  But  I  daresay 
people  do  often  tell  mediums  a  good  deal, 
perhaps  almost  unconsciously.  From  what  I 
have  heard  a  good  many  hand-readers  learn 
from  their  clients  almost  as  much  as  they  tell 
them." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  a  fool  to  begin  again," 
said  Mrs  Marden.  "  But  oh,  Miss  King,  one 
does  long  so  to  catch  on  to  something! " 

She  got  up  and  moved  restlessly  about  the 
room. 

"  I  would  give  anything  to  be  convinced  that 
my  boy  is  still  alive  somewhere!"  she  ex- 
claimed. '  That  he  still  thinks  of  me,  wants 
me.  I  want  him  so  terribly." 

Suddenly  she  broke  down  and  cried. 

'  Without  any  belief,  any  hope,  such  grief 
as  mine  is  unbearable,"  she  said,  desperately 
through  her  tears.  "And  yet — I  don't  want 
to  be  deceived.  But  sometimes  I  would  give 


136  MRS  HARDEN 

anything  almost  not  to  have  that  cold  some- 
thing in  the  brain  which  resists  what  might 
be  consolation.  He  says  I  secretly  do  be- 
lieve, but  that  I  am  perverse  and  fight  against 
my  own  convictions.  I  wonder  if  I  do? " 

She  gazed  almost  hungrily  at  Miss  King. 
Her  tear-stained  face  looked  quite  old.  The 
secretary  got  up,  took  her  hand  gently  and 
kissed  her. 

"  Something  will  come  to  give  you  help," 
she  said.  "  I  am  sure  of  that.  And  perhaps 
it  will  come  when  you  least  expect  it,  and 
from  the  last  quarter  where  you  would  be 
likely  to  look  for  it.  That  often  happens. 
Sometimes  a  very  little  thing,  what  seems  a 
mere  trifle,  brings  about  a  great  change  in 
&  human  being.  So  it  may  be  with  you.  But 
I  wish  you  would  pray  for  it." 

"  He  says  he  prays." 

"Mr  Orwyn?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  shall  pray  for  you,"  said  Miss  King. 
"  It  may  do  no  good.  I  can't  tell.  But  when 
I  look  at  you  I  feel  I  must  do  it." 

Mrs  Marden  squeezed  her  hand  almost  con- 
vulsively and  then  hurried  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SOME  weeks  later  Mrs  Marden  felt  that 
the  great  change  spoken  of  by  Miss  King 
had  come  to  her,  though  not  perhaps  from 
the  last  quarter  where  she  was  likely  to  look 
for  it.  Arthur  Burnley  had  told  her  to  be 
obstinate,  to  go  on.  She  had  obeyed  him. 
She  had  been  obstinate  in  sitting  with  Peter 
Orwyn  when  she  was  sceptical,  doubtful,  won- 
dering, when  finally  she  was  wavering  be- 
tween unbelief  and  belief.  And  at  last  she 
had  been  rewarded.  Gradually  in  repeated 
sittings  her  desire  to  believe  had  grown  in 
strength  till  it  had  become  almost  an  ob- 
session. Each  time  the  lights  were  switched 
off  in  Orwyn's  narrow  room,  and  darkness 
swallowed  up  the  medium  and  his  compan- 
ions, she  said  to  herself  silently,  but  with 
urgency,  "  I  want  to  believe,  I  want  to  be- 
lieve." Each  time  the  young  soldier-like  voice 
spoke  she  listened  to  it  more  acutely,  strain- 
ing her  ears,  asking  herself,  "  Is  it  his  voice? 
Could  it  be  the  voice  of  some  other  young 

137 


138  MRS  HARDEN 

soldier,  of  any  typical  young  soldier?  Or 
has  it  the  individual,  the  absolutely  personal 
quality  which  only  my  boy's  voice  had? "  And 
she  strove  to  find  testing  questions  to  ask 
it.  She  spoke  to  it  of  small  matters  known 
only  to  Ronald  and  herself,  and  several  times 
she  obtained  replies  containing  allusions  to 
intimate  things,  little  jokes,  little  happenings 
in  which  Ronald  and  she  had  shared. 

One  night  an  absurd  memory  rose  in  her 
mind. 

She  had  gone  with  Ronald  to  Covent  Gar- 
den to  see  a  performance  of  the  Russian  bal- 
let. The  ballet  was  "  Thamar."  Two  elderly 
ladies,  evidently  sisters,  had  sat  just  in  front 
of  them,  and  during  the  barbaric  terrors  of 
the  very  un-English  story  so  fiercely  brought 
out  by  the  incomparable  company,  had  con- 
tinually made  comments  described  by  Ronald 
as  "  priceless ".  At  the  close  of  the  ballet 
when  Karsavina,  raising  her  weary  form  on 
the  great  pile  of  cushions,  had  gazed  with  her 
dark  and  lustful  eyes  towards  the  ravine  where 
travellers  passed  by  her  castle,  had  lifted  her- 
self up,  raised  her  white  arm,  and  waved  slowly 
the  beckoning  handkerchief,  one  of  the  sisters 
had  exclaimed  to  the  other, 

'  Where  is  her  sense  of  shame,  Mary?    Why 


ROBERT  HICHENS  139 

the    other    one    has    hardly    had    time    to    get 
cold  yet,  and  there  she  is  at  it  again!  " 

'  You  may  well  ask ! "  the  other  had  re- 
plied. "  Now  if  you  or  I  were  to  use  our 
handkerchiefs  for  any  such  purposes  we  should 
soon  have  to  answer  to  the  police.  Nice  doings, 
I  must  say!  " 

And  thereupon  the  two  had  risen  and 
trampled  virtuously  in  the  direction  of  Bow 
Street. 

And  then  Mrs  Marden  and  Ronald  had 
given  themselves  up  to  laughter. 

With  this  memory  in  her  mind  Mrs  Mar- 
den  said  to  the  voice, 

"  Do  you  remember  what  happened  when 
we  went  to  the  Russian  ballet  together  to 
see  'Thamar'?" 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Then  the  laugh 
came  out  of  the  darkness,  the  hearty  laugh  of 
a  young  man. 

"  Shall  I  ever  forget  it? "  said  the  voice. 
And  again  the  laugh  sounded  through  the 
room. 

At  that  moment  Mrs  Marden  was  convinced. 
Something  within  her  said,  "  That  laugh  was 
Ronald's.  It  is  Ronald's  voice  that  speaks. 
He  does  come.  He  does  talk  to  me.  It 
isn't  all  nonsense.  It  isn't  imagination!  I'm 


140  MRS  HARDEN 

not  being  tricked  and  I'm  not  tricking  my- 
self." 

The  change  within  her,  which  she  thought 
had  taken  place  abruptly,  was  tremendous, 
like  a  blow,  shattering  mercilessly  the  resist- 
ance of  that  cold  thing  in  her  brain,  shattering 
her  perversity,  breaking  down  the  barriers 
which  she  had  set  up,  or  which  had  been  set 
up  by  her  own  temperament  without  her  will 
being  concerned  in  the  matter,  between  her- 
self and  the  happiness  she  had  never  thought 
to  possess.  It  was  as  if  what  had  been  ice 
suddenly  melted  and  warm  streams  gushed 
forth.  She  was  physically  affected  as  people 
often  are  who  undergo  what  is  called  con- 
version. She  trembled;  her  heart  beat  vio- 
lently; her  hands  and  her  head  were  hot  as 
if  fever  had  taken  hold  of  her. 

She  did  not  tell  Peter  Orwyn  what  had 
happened  to  her  that  night.  Possibly,  how- 
ever, he  divined  it.  She  thought  those  dark 
steady  eyes  of  his  could  look  deep  into  peo- 
ple. He  was  not  a  very  well  educated  man, 
but  he  was  naturally  intelligent,  and  had  seen 
many  human  beings  stirred  by  emotion.  He 
surely  could  not  miss  the  almost  wild  move- 
ment of  her  soul.  But  in  truth  she  cared 
very  little  either  way  just  then. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  141 

She  went  away  from  Orwyn's  house  with 
Miss  King  and  Arthur  Burnley.  It  was  late 
springtime  now. 

"  Let  us  walk  home,"  she  said. 

"  But  I  ought  to  take  the  train  at  the 
High  Street  Station,"  said  Miss  King. 

"  Come  home  with  me  and  I'll  put  you 
up  for  the  night,"  said  Mrs  Marden. 

But  I've  got  nothing  with  me!  " 

"  I'll  give  you  all  you  need.  Do  come.  I 
want  you  to-night." 

"  Thank  you.     Then  I  will  come." 

They  walked  on  down  the  quiet  street  and 
turned  the  corner  into  the  busier  High  Street 
of  Kensington.  Because  it  was  wartime  the 
lamps  were  darkened.  In  a  gloom  that  was 
sombre,  almost  sinister,  the  taxicabs  went 
carefully  by.  Pedestrians,  most  of  them  with 
anxious,  preoccupied  faces — there  had  been 
many  air  raids  on  London — trod  cautiously 
through  the  blackness  going  to  houses  which 
might  be  smashed  to  pieces  at  any  moment. 
There  was  the  uneasiness  of  war  in  the  at- 
mosphere although  the  enemy  was  on  the 
other  side  of  the  sea. 

Mrs  Marden  had  often  felt  the  war  dark- 
ness of  London  at  night  like  a  heavy  load 
laid  upon  her  individually  and  bending  her 


142  MRS  HARDEN 

towards  the  abyss.  A  nausea  of  depression 
had  come  upon  her  many  times  as  she  made 
her  way  home  from  Peter  Orwyn's.  For  gen- 
erally she  had  been  conscious  of  a  strong 
reaction  after  the  sittings,  which  had  marked 
the  physical  excitement  engendered  by  them. 
To-night  the  war  darkness  was  there  but  it  no 
longer  pressed  her  down.  She  seemed  able 
to  pierce  through  it  and  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  something  beyond.  Formerly  she  had 
looked  .at  the  shadow  pedestrians  moving 
through  the  obscure  London  ways  with  a  feel- 
ing of  abject  pity  which  had  included  her- 
self. They  were  doomed  and  she  too  was 
doomed.  That  had  been  her  thought.  Now 
she  saw  them  as  travellers  passing  onwards 
through  temporary  darkness  towards  eventual 
light,  and  though  pity  did  not  utterly  die  in 
her  it  was  mitigated.  For  she  felt,  as  she 
supposed  all  truly  religious  people  felt,  that 
the  misery  of  life,  like  the  blackness  of  night, 
would  end  in  a  brilliance,  in  joy,  in  dawn. 
What  a  marvellous  difference  that  feeling  made, 
changing  the  whole  world  in  a  moment!  She 
remembered  Peter  Orwyn's  words,  "  You  are 
being  educated;  that's  all."  She  had  heard 
them  with  a  sense  of  almost  bitter  contempt, 
even  of  impotent  anger,  without  any  belief 


ROBERT  HICHENS  143 

in  their  truth.  But  he  had  known  more  than 
she  had.  And  even  Diana  Terrerton  had 
known  more,  in  spite  of  her  pitiable  hysteria. 
Suddenly  Mrs  Harden  was  passionately  grate- 
ful to  Lady  Terrerton;  she  had  wanted  to 
hand  on  her  blessings  and  she  had  done  it. 

"  I  must  tell  her!  "  Mrs  Marden  said  to  her- 
self. "To-morrow  I'll  tell  her." 

She  was  walking  between  her  two  com- 
panions in  silence.  Now  she  looked  at  Miss 
King.  As  she  did  so  Miss  King  looked  at 
her  and  said, 

"What  is  it?" 

"  I  feel  happy  to-night.  And  it's — it's  so 
extraordinary  to  feel  happy  again.  I  never 
thought- 
She  stopped  speaking;  she  could  not  go 
on.  Tears  had  come  into  her  eyes.  She 
turned  towards  Arthur  Burnley.  He  was 
walking  with  his  eyes  looking  straight  ahead, 
apparently  immersed  in  thought.  After  tak- 
ing a  moment  to  regain  complete  control  of 
her  emotion  she  said, 

"  Mr  Burnley,  you  were  right." 

His  keen  eyes  searched  her  for  an  instant 
in  the  obscurity.  Then  he  said, 

4  You  have  got  rid  of  your  scepticism!" 

"  Yes." 


144  MRS  HARDEN 

"  It  was  a  disease  in  you.  Now  you're 
sound." 

"But  why  has  it  gone  so  suddenly?  I 
can't  understand." 

'  We  never  can.  We  aren't  meant  to.  I 
don't  know  why.  We  are  as  ignorant  in  our 
joy  as  we  are  in  our  misery.  But,  mind,  I 
don't  say  I  agree  with  you." 

'  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  About  the  suddenness.  I  think  you  have 
been  very  slowly  drawn  along  to  the  truth. 
That's  often  the  way.  We  travel  towards  a 
goal  without  being  aware  that  we  are  moving. 
The  soul  isn't  like  the  body.  It's  finer,  but 
duller,  too.  It's  deceived,  or  it  deceives  it- 
self, much  oftener  than  the  body  is  deceived, 
or  deceives.  I've  felt  your  progress  and  I'm 
not  a  bit  surprised.  But  then  I've  trodden 
the  same  path  as  you  have." 

Miss  King  had  been  listening  to  this  con- 
versation intently.  Now  she  said, 

"  I'm  very  thankful  for  you,  Mrs  Marden." 

There  was  something  in  her  tone  which  went 
to  her  friend's  heart.  Mrs  Marden  and  she 
had  of  course  many  times  discussed  all  that 
had  happened  in  Hornton  Street,  and  Miss 
King's  invariable  conclusion  about  the  mani- 
festations had  been  that  she  couldn't  make  up 


ROBERT  HICHENS  145 

her  mind  what  their  origin  was.  She,  like 
Mrs  Marden,  was  unable  to  believe  that  Or- 
wyn  was  a  charlatan.  She  liked  him;  she 
thought  him  sincere.  But  on  the  other  hand 
she  thought  it  probable  that  he  was  self-de- 
ceived about  his  own  powers  and  capacities. 
She  had  a  methodical  mind,  and  was  by  na- 
ture very  thorough  in  everything  she  under- 
took. She  applied  her  brains  with  a  sort  of 
calm  and  unhumourous  energy  to  the  task  in 
hand,  whatever  it  was.  And  she  had  done  this 
to  the  Hornton  Street  task,  noting  carefully 
everything  that  occurred  with  a  still  determin- 
ation not  to  be  "  carried  away ",  yet  with- 
out any  of  the  obstinacy  which  led  Mrs  Mar- 
den  often  to  resistance  and  distrust  of  im- 
pressions. In  her  leisure  hours,  when  the 
day's  work  was  done,  and  she  was  alone  in 
her  little  rooms,  she  had  read  several  stand- 
ard works  dealing  with  occultism,  psychical 
research  and  the  strange  powers  of  the  sub- 
conscious mind.  One  of  them,  written  by  a 
brilliant  and  logical  American,  had  greatly 
impressed  her.  And,  though  always  open- 
minded  and  indeed  anxious  to  believe,  she  was 
inclined  to  think  that  Orwyn  was  a  genuine 
man  with  genuine  powers  possessed  by  very 
few  people,  who  perhaps,  indeed  probably, 


146  MRS  HARDEN 

mistook  the  nature  of  his  own  powers,  and 
attributed  to  released  spirits  occurrences  which 
in  reality  had  their  origin  in  mysterious,  but 
purely  human,  energies  which  he  knew  noth- 
ing of.  Since  she  had  joined  in  the  sittings  there 
had  been  few  of  those  manifestations  which 
have  been  laughed  at  by  the  incredulous  world 
for  years,  which  have  been  reproduced  by  con- 
jurers and  exposed  by  clever  and  cynical  men 
to  the  delight  of  sensation  lovers.  The  in- 
struments of  music  had  lain  hidden  in  Peter 
Orwyn's  bureau.  The  luminous  faces  had  not 
been  visible.  But  the  table  had  turned  and 
risen  from  the  floor;  rappings  had  been  audible; 
lights  had  flashed;  voices  had  spoken;  and 
Peter  Orwyn  had  several  times  written  auto- 
matically. When  apparently  entranced  he  had 
also  answered  questions  addressed  to  him  by 
the  sitters.  All  this  had  deeply  interested  Miss 
King,  but  she  had  never  felt  convinced,  she  did 
not  feel  convinced  now,  that  spirit  agencies  had 
been  at  work  using  the  medium.  On  the  other 
hand  she  did  not  feel  positive  that  such  agen- 
cies could  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
manifestations. 

One  thing,  however,  she  had  specially  re- 
marked; and  that  was  that  scarcely  anything 
which  occurred  seemed  to  have  any  reference 


ROBERT  HICHENS  147 

to  herself.  So  far  as  she  was  aware  Peter 
Orwyn  still  knew  nothing  whatever  about  her 
except  that  she  was  the  secretary,  and  now  the 
friend,  of  Mrs  Marden.  She  had  never  been 
tempted  to  depart  from  the  rigid  reserve  about 
her  private  life  which  she  had  shown  when  she 
had  first  made  Orwyn's  acquaintance.  She 
liked  him;  she  had  always  been  friendly,  even 
cordial,  to  him;  but  she  had  never  told  him 
anything.  Had  this  reserve  of  hers  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  medium's  reserve  to- 
wards herself,  displayed  by  the  absence  of 
reference  to  her  life  and  her  longings  from 
the  revelations  in  Hornton  Street? 

She  had  often  wondered  about  this;  she 
wondered  about  it  now. 

As  they  walked  on  together,  skirting  Ken- 
sington Gardens  and  the  Park,  Mrs  Marden 
and  Burnley  talked  together,  and  Miss  King 
now  and  then  joined  in.  But  that  night  for 
the  first  time  she  felt  a  little  "  out  of  it "  with 
these  two,  as  a  sceptic  may  feel  when  in  com- 
pany with  ardent  believers.  She  was  glad, 
she  was  even  thankful,  at  the  change  in  her 
friend,  but  she  could  not  help  wishing  she 
shared  it. 

Burnley  walked  with  them  as  far  as  Hans 
Place  and  then  said  good-night.  He  refused 


148  MRS  HARDEN 

to  enter  the  house.  As  he  shook  hands  with 
Miss  King  he  said  to  her, 

"  Miss  King,  I  like  your  sincerity.  You 
neither  rush  forward  into  things,  nor  hold  back 
from  them.  You  will  never  be  a  victim." 

"A  victim,  Mr  Burnley!"  she  said,  blush- 
ing slightly. 

"  Either  of  credulity  or  scepticism.  I  think 
three  quarters  of  the  world  are  the  victims  of 
one  or  the  other.  Good-night,  Mrs  Marden. 
This  has  been  a  great  night ! " 

He  shook  her  hand  warmly. 

"  Getting  to  truth — it's  like  warming  cold 
hands  at  a  fire,  isn't  it? " 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  walked  away  into  the 
darkness. 

As  the  two  women  went  into  the  house  Mrs 
Marden  said, 

"  He's  right  about  you,  Emily.  Are  you 
still  doubtful?" 

"  I  still  feel  as  I  have  always  felt.  But 
I  am  thankful  for  the  change  in  you." 

:f  I  can  scarcely  understand  it.  It's  all  come 
so  suddenly." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.  I've  been  expecting 
it  for  some  time." 

Mrs  Marden  stood  still  in  the  hall. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  149 

"Have  you  gone  on  praying  about  me?" 

"Yes."  * 

"  Can  it  be  that?  Have  I  been  wrong, 
perhaps,  in  all  my  disbeliefs?  " 

There  was  deep  enquiry  in  her  eyes  as  she 
looked  at  her  friend. 

'  To-night  everything  seems  different,"  she 
added.  "  It's  so  wonderful  to  feel  sure  that 
Ronald  is  alive.  Tell  me,  are  you  convinced 
that  the  man  you  loved  is  alive  somewhere?" 

'  Yes.  But  I  was  convinced  of  that  before 
I  went  to  Mr  Orwyn's." 

"  And  going  has  made  no  difference  at  all 
to  you?" 

"  None  at  all  about  anything  of  that  kind." 

"  It  was  an  instinct  that  told  you? " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  I  had  no  such  instinct  and  yet  now 
I  believe.  How  utterly  different  you  and  I 
must  be !  " 

c  Yes,   I  suppose  we  are." 

That  evening  they  sat  together  for  a  long 
time  before  going  to  bed.  Miss  King  listened 
with  the  liveliest  sympathy  to  Mrs  Marden's 
expression  of  the  new-found  happiness,  and 
yet,  strangely,  perhaps,  all  the  time  they  were 
sitting  together  she  felt  that  she,  unconverted 
by  Peter  Orwyn,  was  more  firmly  anchored 


150  MRS  HARDEN 

to  truth  than  her  friend  now  converted.  No 
one  had  come  to  her  in  Peter  Orwyn's  room; 
no  voice  had  spoken  to  her.  The  man  whom  she 
loved  and  had  lost  had  given  her  no  sign  that 
he  was  now  anything  but  the  dust  of  what  had 
once  been  a  humble  hero.  But  within  her, 
far  down  in  the  depth  of  her,  she  held  a 
certainty  that  the  life  given  so  readily,  almost 
indeed  with  eagerness,  for  a  man's  native  land, 
had  not  been  lost  but  found  when  the  body 
fell.  And  she  knew  that  no  event  in  her  own 
life  could  rob  her  of  this  certainty  or  destroy 
it  in  her.  Was  Mrs  Marden,  even  now,  as 
safe  as  she  was;  she  who  did  not  need  the 
strange  happenings  at  any  seance  to  make  her 
believe?  Some  words  from  the  Bible  came  into 
her  mind :  '  Blessed  are  they  who  have  not 
seen  and  yet  have  believed  ".  She  could  not 
help  at  that  moment  applying  them  to  herself, 
and  drawing  a  mental  comparison  between 
Thomas  and  Mrs  Marden,  who  having  heard 
had  at  last  come  to  belief.  Mrs  Marden  had  a 
great  deal  more  of  most  of  the  things  thought 
desirable  by  the  average  man  and  woman  than 
she,  humble  Emily  King,  had.  And  now  this 
conviction  that  she  had  spoken  with  the  dead, 
had  had  a  direct  proof  of  the  after  existence 
was  added  to  her.  Yet  Emily  King  felt 


ROBERT  HICHENS  151 

herself  to  be  the  richer,  the  more  fortunate 
of  the  two  women  linked  in  intimacy  by  mis- 
fortune. So  great  is  it  not  to  need  proof! 
So  great  is  it  to  guide  your  course  by  the 
stars  instead  of  by  the  lights  men  can  kindle 
and  men  can  put  out! 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  that  year  that 
Peter  Orwyn's  name  became  notorious  in  the 
newspapers.  Cecil  Hammond  was  the  origina- 
tor of  the  campaign  which  caused  such  heart- 
burning and  anger  in  spiritualistic  circles.  He 
was  as  he  had  said  a  keen  student  of  the 
various  movements  of  his  time,  and  was  not 
to  be  deterred  by  sarcasm  or  even  by  ridicule 
from  going  deeply  into  any  subject  that  en- 
gaged the  attention  of  his  hungry  mind.  But 
he  was  a  man  who  could  be  as  ruthless  as  he 
was  intellectually  inquisitive,  and  there  was 
nothing  he  hated  so  much  as  being  made  a 
fool  of.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  conceit  in 
his  composition,  and  if  his  conceit  were  injured 
he  was  capable  of  being  very  disagreeable,  at 
times  even  dangerous. 

Mrs  Marden  had  not  seen  Hammond  again 
since  her  sittings  with  Lady  Terrerton  had 
come  to  lan  end,  but  his  view  of  Orwyn  had 
never  led  her  to  expect  that  he  would,  in  the 
common  phrase,  "  turn  against "  him.  Con- 


152  MRS  HARDEN 

sequently  she  was  both  surprised  and  shocked 
when  one  day  Burnley  told  her  that  Hammond 
had  become  the  sworn  enemy  of  those  who 
practised  spiritualism,  and  especially  of  Peter 
Orwyn. 

"Why?"  she  asked. 

"  He  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Orwyn 
is  a  charlatan  and  a  danger  to  society,"  said 
Burnley.  "  Hammond  knows  all  sorts  of  peo- 
ple. Some  time  ago  he  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Larrington." 

"Larrington!  do  you  mean  the  famous  con- 
jurer? " 

'  Yes.  And  Larrington,  it  seems,  has  con- 
vinced him  that  Orwyn's  manifestations  can 
all  be  reproduced  by  ingenious  trickery!" 

'  They  can't.  There  can  be  no  trick  which 
could  cause  voices  which  we  know  to  speak 
to  us." 

"  Of  course  not.  But  Hammond  is  deter- 
mined to  get  up  a  campaign  against  the  whole 
thing,  and  especially  against  Orwyn." 

"Does  Mr  Orwyn  know?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  he — how  does  he  take  it? " 

"  He  seems  quite  undisturbed  so  far  as  He 
personally  is  concerned.  But  he  seems  vexed 
and  anxious  on  account  of  his  son." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  153 

"  Captain  Orwyn? " 

'  Yes.  His  son  has  done,  and  is  doing, 
splendidly  in  the  war,  and  it  would  be  hard 
on  him  to  have  his  father  publicly  held  up 
to  contempt.  You  know  what  it  is  in  a  regi- 
ment. I'm  disgusted  with  Hammond,  but 
there's  no  stopping  him,  I'm  afraid." 

He  looked  at  her,  and  she  saw  by  his  ex- 
pression that  he  was  considering  something 
with  which  his  mind  connected  her. 

"  I  can't  stop  him,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  think  anyone  else  could  ?  " 

"  I  wonder." 

"Lady  Terrerton— 

"  Oh  no!     He  thinks  her  a  fool." 

"  Probably  he  thinks  all  women  are  fools." 

"  He's  too  clever  for  that." 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

'  Well,  Orwyn  wondered  whether  you  could 
do  something.  You  were  a  long  time  in  being 
convinced,  but  he  did  convince  you.  That 
might  possibly  weigh  with  Hammond." 

"  I'll  see  Mr  Hammond,"  she  said  with  de- 
cision. "  I  owe  everything  to  Mr  Orwyn.  He 
has  changed  my  whole  life.  I  would  try  any- 
thing for  him.  And  I  know  what  he  feels  for 
his  son.  Where  does  Mr  Hammond  live?  " 

Burnley  told  her. 


154  MRS  HARDEN 

"  I'll  do  my  utmost  to  stop  him,"  she  said. 

She  wrote  to  Cecil  Hammond  that  day  and 
asked  him  to  come  and  see  her.  She  was 
quite  frank  about  her  reason  for  wishing  to 
meet  him  again.  He  answered  politely  by 
return  of  post  fixing  an  hour  for  a  call,  and 
punctually  to  the  moment  he  walked  into  her 
drawing-room. 

"I'm  glad  to  meet  you  again,  Mr  Ham- 
mond," she  said,  greeting  him  cordially. 

He  smiled. 

"  That's  good  of  you!  Especially  as  I'm 
afraid  we  are  now  in  opposite  camps." 

"  I  think  you  and  I  can  even  be  in  opposite 
camps  without  being  personal  enemies,"  she  said 
lightly. 

His  observant  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her, 
and  she  noticed  an  expression  of  surprise  flit 
over  his  clever  face. 

"  You  are  wondering,"  she  said.  "  I  know 
why." 

"Why  then?" 

"  Because  I  am  looking  so  much  happier 
than  I  was  when  you  saw  me  last.*' 

"  Perhaps  that  is  it." 

She  sat  down  not  far  from  a  window. 

"I  can  bear  the  light  on  me  now,"  she 
said.  "  That  means  a  good  deal." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  155 

He  sat  near  her. 

"  You  know  why  I  want  to  have  a  talk 
with  you,"  she  continued.  "  It's  about  Mr 
Orwyn.  You  have  become  his  enemy." 

"  Hardly  that." 

"  His  opponent  then." 

"  I'm  the  opponent  of  all  flagrant  insin- 
cerity," he  said  inflexibly. 

'  That's  a  man's  part,  I  think.  But  now 
tell  me  something.  And  please  be  sincere 
yourself.  Do  you  think  me  a  fool  ?  " 

"My   dear  Mrs   Marden! " 

"No,  no!    Do  you?" 

"  I  do  not." 

"  Really  I  am  not  as  determined  to  believe 
all  I  should  like  to  believe  as  Diana  Terrerton 
is." 

"Oh— Lady  Terrerton!"  He  paused.  "I 
know  that,"  he  added. 

"  She  and  I  are  friends  again,"  said  Mrs 
Marden.  "  I  am  grateful  to  her." 

"  She  is  a  very  kind,  foolish  woman.  And 
that's  to  her  credit!" 

1  Yes.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  why  you 
are  determined  to  attack  Mr  Orwyn." 

"  I  will.  It's  because  I  have  become  con- 
vinced that  he  makes  money  by  trickery." 

"  How  have  you  become  convinced? " 


156  MRS  HARDEN 

He  replied  by  another  question. 

"  How  have  you  become  convinced  that  the 
manifestations  he  produces  are  genuine,  are 
what  he  claims  that  they  are  ?  " 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  It's  very  difficult  to  explain  in  a  sensible 
way,"  she  said.  "  I  think  I  almost  resisted  my 
own  inclination  to  believe.  I  hated  so  many  of 
the  manifestations.  They  seemed  to  me  ridicu- 
lous. I  even  told  Mr  Orwyn  so." 

"What  did  he  say  to  that?" 

'  Well,  he  didn't  say  much.  But — those 
manifestations  ceased." 

"Ah!" 

"  He  didn't  bring  out  the  tambourine  and 
those  other  things.  He  didn't  enter  the  cab- 
inet." 

'  You  mean  you  didn't  sit  any  more  for  mani- 
festations? " 

"  No,  we  didn't." 

"  Very  accommodating  of  Mr  Orwyn !  Now 
let  me  tell  you  something  before  you  go  on. 
Larrington,  the  conjurer,  is  an  acquaintance 
of  mine.  I  have  got  to  know  him  very  well 
lately.  He  has  reproduced  for  me  in  private 
everything  Orwyn  does  at  the  seances;  the  feats 
of  levitation,  the  appearances,  the  floating  tam- 
bourine, the  flashing  lights,  the  rappings  on 


ROBERT  HICHENS  157 

pictures  and  furniture,  the  touching  hands — 
everything.  And  not  only  that.  Under  the 
seal  of  secrecy  he  has  shown  me  exactly  how 
all  these  things  are  done." 

"  Mr  Larrington  cannot  have  reproduced 
everything  Mr  Orwyn  accomplishes, — no,  that 
is  the  wrong  word — I  mean  everything  that 
happens  at  the  seances.  What  convinced  me 
was  a  voice." 

"Oh— the  voices!" 

He  spoke  with  a  strong  note  of  contempt. 

"  Mr  Hammond,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
you  can't  recognise  the  voice  of  anyone  you 
care  for?" 

'  Voices  are  often  very  much  alike." 

'  Wouldn't  you  recognise  even  my  voice, 
which  you  haven't  heard  very  often,  in  the  dark? 
Can't  we  recognise  voices  even  when  they  speak 
through  the  telephone — not  always  but  very 
often?" 

'  Your  voice,  Mrs  Marden,  happens  to  be 
very  distinctive,  as  Ellen  Terry's  voice  is, 
but  as  only  comparatively  few  voices  are.  And 
they,  I  have  remarked,  are  usually  the  voices 
of  women.  Take  actors,  for  instance.  I  know 
the  English  stage  pretty  well,  but  I  doubt  if 
I  should  be  certain  to  recognise  with  my  eyes 
shut  the  voices  of  the  actors  I  have  heard  again 


158  MRS  HARDEN 

and  again.  I  will  make  one  exception.  Charles 
Wyndham  had  a  voice  so  peculiar  that  I  think 
I  could  have  been  practically  certain  it  was 
his  if  I  had  heard  it  without  seeing  him." 

"  But  the  voice  of  somebody  one — one  loves !  " 

"  I  don't  think  love  is  always  accurate  in 
its  perceptions.  Besides — forgive  me — you 
heard  a  voice  with  me  several  times  without 
being  convinced." 

'  Yes,  I  know.  But  I  always  thought  it 
like  my  boy's  voice." 

*  The  voices  of  young  soldiers  are  extraor- 
dinarily alike.  Haven't  you  noticed  that?  If 
you  belonged  to  any  club  they  frequent — such 
as  the  Bath  Club  for  instance — you  would 
certainly  have  remarked  it." 

"  I  have  remarked  it.  I  thought  exactly  as 
you  do.  I  was  very  reluctant  to  believe.  I 
think  I  even  fought  against  a  growing  con- 
viction that  I  was  listening  to — to  my  son's 
voice." 

"  May  I  ask  how  you  became  convinced  ?  " 

"  It  seemed  to  be  quite  sudden.  One  night 
I  knew!" 

"  But  what  made  you  know?  That's  the 
point." 

"  It  wasn't  desire.  Or  I  should  have  known, 
or  thought  I  knew,  much  sooner." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  159 

Hammond  pursed  his  firm  lips. 

"  Why  does  one  know  a  thing  suddenly? " 
she  said.  "How  can  I  explain?  Light  seerns 
to  break  on  one.  Conviction  comes  like  a 
thief  in  the  night." 

"  It  seems  to  have  been  as  abrupt  as  St. 
Paul's  conversion,"  he  observed,  with  a  faint 
smile.  "  But  then  conversion  sometimes  shakes 
a  crowd  at  a  revival  meeting,  doesn't  it? 
And  I'm  afraid  that  doesn't  prove  very  much." 

'  You  think  I'm  a  victim  of  hysteria,  per- 
haps?" 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  say  that.  But  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  seances  are  very 
unwholesome,  that  they  act  noxiously  upon  the 
body  in  many  cases,  and  through  the  body  in- 
fluence the  mind.  These  mediums,  I'm  sure, 
are  aware  of  that,  count  upon  it  as  a  point  in 
their  favour.  Most  evil  things  breed  best  in 
the  dark." 

"  I  know  my  son  has  spoken  to  me,"  she 
said  simply. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  quite  genuine  in  your 
conviction." 

"  But  that  doesn't  convince  you  at  all." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  doesn't." 

''  I  don't  know  why  it  should  really.  But 
I  thought  I  ought  to  tell  you." 


160  MRS  HARDEN 

"  Has  this  voice  ever  said  anything  extra- 
ordinary to  you?  Has  it  ever  given  you  what 
you  might  consider  an  absolute  proof  of  iden- 
tity?" 

"  It  has  spoken  of  things  only  my  son  arid 
I  knew." 

"  But  you  knew  them!  " 

'  You  think  Mr  Orwyn  is  a  thought-reader?  " 

"  There  are  scientific  men,  I  understand, 
who  deny  the  possibility  of  telepathy.  But  I 
have  convinced  myself  that  telepathy  is  possi- 
ble, and  that  many  of  these  mediums  are 
thought-readers.  The  same  thing  may  be 
said  of  all  successful  hand-readers,  I  believe. 
Has  that  voice  ever  told  you  anything  about 
your  son  which  you  did  not  know,  and  which 
you  were  afterwards  able  to  ascertain  was 
true  in  every  particular? " 

After  a  pause  she  said, 

"  I  don't  think — I  don't  remember  that  it 
has." 

"  Then  it  hasn't.  Now  if  I  were  you  I 
should  try  to  get  such  a  proof,  but  I  am 
afraid  you  never  will.  And  now  tell  me, 
—what  do  you  think  about  all  these  demon- 
strations of  Orwyn's  which  a  conjurer  can  re- 
duplicate in  every  particular?" 

"  I    suppose   even    a   genuine   manifestation 


ROBERT  HICHENS  161 

might  in  some  cases  be  imitated  by  means 
of  a  trick." 

"  Then  you  don't  think  that  that  part  of 
Orwyn's  performance,  or  whatever  you  like 
to  call  it,  was  accomplished  by  trickery?" 

"I  don't  know.  How  can  I  know?  But 
I  do  know  that  Mr  Larrington  could  not 
bring  to  my  ears  the  voice  of  my  son,  or 
to  my — my  heart  the  certainty  that  he  was 
speaking  to  me.  No  conjurer  could  ever  do 
that." 

"  I  see  you  are  really  of  the  faith,"  said 
Hammond.  '  Well,  I  ought  not  to  be  sur- 
prised. Nothing  in  human  beings  ought  to 
surprise  us.  An  atheist  turns  believer.  A 
monk  flees  the  monastery  and  preaches  the 
negation  of  God.  I  have  known  the  case  of 
a  Roman  Catholic  mother  who  became  a 
Protestant,  abjuring  the  errors  of  Rome.  She 
brought  up  her  daughter  as  a  Protestant.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen  that  daughter  verted  to 
the  religion  the  mother  had  renounced.  Law- 
rence Oliphant,  one  of  the  cleverest  men  of  his 
time,  became  a  follower  of  the  Prophet  Harris. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  believe  in  Mrs  Eddy 
more  than  they  believe  in  the  Bible.  The  mul- 
titudes of  members  of  '  The  League  of  the 
Silver  Star '  look  to  a  lively  little  Indian  in 


162  MRS  HARDEN 

tweeds,  who  may  be  seen  lunching  at  Claridge's, 
as  the  reincarnation  of  the  Christ.  Even  Mark 
Twain  could  not  kill  Christian  Science  and  I 
shall  certainly  not  be  able  to  kill  spiritualism. 
But  the  fight  is  the  thing  that  counts,  not  the 
victory." 

'  Then  you  are  determined  to  attack  Mr 
Orwyn?" 

"I    am." 

"  I  want  you  not  to  attack  him." 

"  Because  you  believe  in  him?  " 

"He  has  brought  a  great  happiness  into  my 
life." 

"  I  can  see  that." 

"  But  you  want  to  take  it  from  me?  " 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  hurt  you  personally. 
Why  should  I  ?  The  whole  thing  is  not  a  ques- 
tion of  individuals  but  simply  of  what  is  truth 
and  what  is  fraud.  Besides  if  what  you  be- 
lieve is  true  and  what  I  believe  is  false,  how 
can  any  attack  of  mine  do  any  harm  to  you? 
My  experience  tells  me  that  any  attack  upon 
truth  merely  brings  it  more  clearly  into  the 
light.  Therefore  if  I  attack  Peter  Orwyn  and 
he  is  genuine  his  position  will  be  strengthened. 
I  am  sure  you  see  that." 

"  I  think  you  know  how  to  argue  much 
better  than  I  do." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  163 

Cecil  Hammond  crossed  his  legs  looking 
pleased  with  himself,  but  he  said  politely, 

"  I  really  don't  think  so,  Mrs  Harden,  I 
really  don't  think  so.  You  know  very  well  how 
to  stand  up  for  your  friends." 

"  I  don't  want  to  argue,"  she  said  earnestly. 
"  I  wish  to  make  an  appeal  to  you.  We  differ, 
I  know,  about  Peter  Orwyn,  but  I'm  sure  we 
shall  agree  about  the  debt  we  owe  to  the  men 
who  are  fighting  for  us,  to  our  soldiers  in 
France." 

Hammond's  eyebrows  went  up. 

"Our  soldiers!"  he  said.  "I'm  afraid  I 
don't  see  what  they  have  to  do  with  this 
question." 

"  Mr  Orwyn  has  a  soldier  son.  He  joined 
the  forces  as  a  Private.  He  has  behaved 
gallantly.  He  has  done  so  well  that  recently 
he  has  been  made  a  Captain." 

"  That's  all  to  his  credit.  I  have  nothing 
against  him." 

"  Of  course  not.  Mr  Orwyn,  I  know,  is 
devoted  to  this  son  of  his." 

"  I  daresay  he  is.  But  Orwyn's  private 
life >' 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  consider  Peter  Orwyn. 
But  don't  you  see  how  cruelly  any  scandal  in 
which  his  name  was  involved  must  fall  upon 


164  MRS  HARDEN 

this  young  fellow  who  is  doing  his  very  best 
for  his  country,  and  for  all  of  us?  for  you 
and  me  among  the  rest?  It  would  shame  him 
in  the  regiment,  among  his  comrades,  among  the 
men  he  has  to  lead  and  look  after.  I  think  it 
absolutely  wrong,  ungrateful  for  any  one  cf 
us  who  lives  in  comfort  and  safety  far  away 
from  the  dangers  of  this  hideous  war  to  do 
anything  that  might  strike  at  the  fair  fame, 
the  authority  of  any  soldier  who  is  fighting  our 
battles,  and  risking  his  life  every  day,  every 
hour  for  us.  I  am  sure  you  couldn't  wish  to 
do  such  a  thing.  When  I  think  of  my  own 
boy,  of  all  the  boys  who  have  died,  and  are 
dying  now  at  this  very  moment  for  us,  I  do 
feel  that  we  owe  it  to  them  to  be  very  care- 
ful of  their  honour  and  fair  fame.  Though 
we  can't  fight  we  can  at  least  hold  our  tongues 
if  to  speak  out  certain  things  would  bring 
misery  and  perhaps  even  shame  upon  them. 
I  am  sure  Peter  Orwyn  has  been  a  devoted 
Father  and  is  beloved  by  his  son.  I  daresay 
even  the  money  he  earns  is  earned  rather  for 
his  children  than  for  himself." 

Cecil  Hammond's  smooth  and  rather  plump 
cheeks  had  slowly  reddened  during  this  appeal 
to  his  feelings.  He  had  uncrossed  his  legs  and 
leaned  forward,  looking  down  at  the  carpet. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  165 

But  now  he  looked  up,  and  in  a  hard  voice, 
speaking  more  loudly  than  was  his  custom, 
he  said, 

"  May  I  put  a  question  to  you? " 

"  Yes— do." 

"  Has  Mr  Orwyn  asked  you  to  make  this 
appeal  to  my  feelings?" 

It  was  Mrs  Marden's  turn  to  redden. 

"  He  has  not  personally  asked  me,"  she  said. 

"  But  he  has  indirectly?  " 

"  I  know  it  would  distress  him  very  much  if 
he  were  to  be  the  cause  of  injuring  his  son 
at  such  a  moment  as  this,  just  as  the  boy  is 
rising  so  honourably  to  the  height  of  his  noblest 
possibilities." 

"  He  wanted  you  to  approach  me,"  said 
Hammond. 

She  said  nothing. 

Hammond  sat  as  if  in  deep  thought  for  two 
or  three  minutes.  Then  he  raised  his  head, 
pushed  forward  his  round  chin  almost  aggres- 
sively, and  said  with  determination, 

:<  I'm  very  sorry,  but  I  can't  give  in  to  you 
in  this  matter.  This  rage  for  spiritualism  is 
doing  a  lot  of  harm  in  London.  Ask  the 
nerve  doctors  if  it  isn't.  Swarms  of  impostors 
and  charlatans  are  coining  money  out  of  the 
folly  and  the  emotion  of  the  public.  These 


166  MRS  MARDEN 

people  are  a  positive  danger  to  the  community, 
and  Peter  Orwyn  is  one  of  the  worst  of  them. 
You  spoke  just  now  of  the  money  he  earned 
for  his  children.  But  do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
that  if  a  man  is  good  to  his  family  that  ex- 
cuses him  for  gaining  money  by  false  pre- 
tences? Is  every  criminal  to  go  scot  free  if 
he  happens  to  have  a  son  in  the  army? " 

"  Mr  Orwyn  is  not  a  criminal." 

"  In  my  opinion  he's  a  swindler,  and  I  mean 
to  go  for  him." 

'What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"  I'm  going  to  attack  him  in  the  papers. 
If  he's  genuine  he  can  prosecute  me  for  libel. 
But  I'm  quite  ready  to  take  the  risk  of  that. 
And  Larrington  is  going  to  repudiate  all  his 
manifestations  at  St  Patrick's  Hall  for  the 
benefit  of  the  public." 

Mrs  Marden  got  up,  and  Hammond  followed 
her  example. 

"  Very  well,  Mr  Hammond,"  she  said  quietly 
and  with  no  emotion.  "  I  have  done  my  best. 
I  think  you  are  wrong  in  the  line  you  are 
taking.  But  we  have  different  views,  and  I 
suppose  I  have  no  right  to  complain  of  yours. 
Mr  Burnley— 

"  Arthur  Burnley  is  a  fanatic,"  interrupted 
Hammond.  "  You  have  only  got  to  look  at  his 


ROBERT  HICHENS  167 

eyes  to  see  that.  Even  if  Orwyn  were  pub- 
licly to  confess  himself  a  trickster  Burnley 
wouldn't  believe  it.  But — you  would." 

He  said  no  more,  but  shook  her  by  the  hand 
and  left  her. 


CHAPTER  VII 

HAMMOND'S  attack  on  Peter  Orwyn  and  the 
spiritualists  was  not  long  in  coming.  It  ap- 
peared in  one  of  the  most  widely  read  London 
newspapers,  informed  the  public  that  Larring- 
ton,  the  famous  conjurer,  had  undertaken  to 
reproduce  at  St  Patrick's  Hall  Peter  Orwyn's 
so-called  spirit  manifestations,  and  challenged 
the  medium  to  come  forward  on  the  stage  to 
give  a  test  seance  under  the  severest  possible 
conditions,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  committee 
of  six  eminent  men,  whose  names  were  given, 
and  who  were  quite  willing  to  be  convinced  of 
the  presence  of  spirits,  if  Orwyn,  or  anyone  else, 
could  convince  them.  Two  of  these  men  were 
famous  physicians,  one  was  a  writer,  one  a 
prominent  clergyman,  and  the  remaining  two 
were  members  of  Parliament.  In  the  event 
of  Orwyn's  not  choosing  to  take  up  this  chal- 
lenge Hammond  invited  him  to  bring  an  action 
for  libel  against  his  assailant. 

The  day  after  the  appearance  of  the  article 
Mrs  Harden  paid  a  visit  to  Hornton  Street 
and  asked  if  she  could  see  Peter  Orwyn.  The 
little  maid,  who  was  looking  rather  scared, 
said  she  didn't  know,  but  would  see. 

168 


ROBERT  HICHENS  169 

"Then  Mr  Orwyn  is  at  home?"  said  Mrs 
Marden. 

"  Yes,  Mum,"  said  the  maid,  "  but  there's 
been  so  many  after  him  to-day,  gentlemen  from 
the  papers  and  photograffers.  Oh  he  has  been 
worritted.  They  want  his  likeness  for  the 
Daily  Mirror,  Mum,  and  I  don't  know  what 
all." 

"  I'm  his  friend.  I  daresay  he'll  see  me.  Just 
ask  him." 

"Yes,  Mum,  I  know." 

She  disappeared  but  soon  came  back  and 
invited  Mrs  Marden  to  come  up. 

Mrs  Marden  was  shown  into  the  drawing- 
room  where  she  was  alone  for  a  few  minutes. 
She  sat  by  the  window  looking  towards  the 
back  part  of  the  room  where  stood  the  round 
table  at  which  she  had  so  often  sat  in  dim 
light  or  in  darkness.  In  the  bright  sunshine 
the  room  looked  very  commonplace.  There  was 
no  mystery  about  it.  It  was  rather  bare,  clean, 
and  without  any  pretence  of  luxury,  any  sug- 
gestion of  possible  hiding-places.  It  looked 
like  the  room  of  a  man  moderately  well  off  and 
quiet  unpretentious.  Mrs  Marden  thought  it 
almost  touching  in  its  simplicity. 

In  this  narrow  chamber  what  emotions  she 
had  felt,  what  disgust,  what  weariness,  what 


170  MRS  HARDEN 

trembling  anxiety  and  hope,  finally  what  in- 
tensity of  joy!  Now  she  sat  and  stared  at 
it,  and  remembered  Hammond's  strange  words 
about  Arthur  Burnley  and  herself.  If  Orwyn 
were  to  confess  himself  a  trickster  Hammond 
had  said  that  Burnley  wouldn't  believe  him, 
and  then,  fixing  his  grey  eyes  upon  her,  had 
added—"  But— you  would!  " 

Of  course  she  would!  She  couldn't  do  other- 
wise. She  was  no  fanatic.  But  oh,  what  an 
agony  it  would  be  to  have  her  belief  wrenched 
from  her!  Something  seemed  to  clutch  at  her 
heart  strings  at  the  mere  thought  of  it.  Such 
a  thing  would  be  like  the  coming  of  death  to 
her. 

The  coming  of  death!  She  thought  of  her 
own  death,  far  off  no  doubt.  For  she  had 
always  been  a  remarkably  healthy  woman,  and 
no  dangers  of  battlefields  were  waiting  for  her. 
Again  she  looked  at  the  table  with  its  polished 
surface  and  its  rounded  pedestal.  Then  she 
got  up,  went  over  to  it,  and  stood  beside  it, 
touching  it  with  the  fingers  of  her  right  hand. 
If  she  were  dead  and  had  left  behind  her  on 
the  earth  someone  who  loved  her  and  wanted 
her  terribly  could  Peter  Orwyn  summon  her 
here?  How  could  that  be?  How  was  such  a 
mystery  accomplished?  For  a  moment,  while 


ROBERT  HICHENS  171 

she  thought  almost  coldly,  with  a  sort  of  austere 
severity,  her  own  belief  astonished  herself.  In 
the  shades  of  the  night  all  things  seem  so 
much  more  possible  than  in  the  broad  sun- 
light with  the  motes  dancing  in  through  the 
open  windows.  And  yet  she  believed.  Her 
long  fingers  tapped  on  the  slippery  wood. 
Her  eyes  were  bent  down.  But  presently  she 
raised  them.  It  happened  that  she  was  stand- 
ing exactly  opposite  to  a  long  narrow  mirror 
of  very  poor  design,  which  was  nailed  to  the 
distempered  wall.  She  saw  all  the  upper 
part  of  her  figure  and  her  face  in  it.  She 
looked.  Then  she  moved  away  from  the 
table,  went  to  the  mirror,  stood  before  it  and 
looked  again,  not  at  her  face  but  at  her 
body. 

'  Why  how  thin  I  am ! "  she  thought. 

And  she  examined  herself  closely. 

She  had  always  had  a  beautiful  figure,  but 
it  had  been  rather  voluptuous  than  fine  drawn. 
There  had  been  nothing  sylph-like  about  it. 
Grief,  she  had  noticed,  had  changed  her  face. 
But  she  had  never  before  noticed  that  her 
body  had  been  changed.  Now  she  was  almost 
startled.  She  had  certainly  been  losing  flesh 
lately.  Even  her  gown  did  not  fit  her  prop- 
erly. It  was  too  loose  on  her. 


172  MRS  HARDEN 

"Why  hasn't  Henriette  said  anything?"  she 
thought. 

And  then  suddenly  she  remembered  that  one 
day  the  maid  had  begun  to  say  something  to 
her  about  a  gown  being  too  large  for  her,  and 
that  she  had  exclaimed,  rather  crossly, 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  me  any  more  about  clothes ! 
I  am  sick  of  clothes!  I  don't  care  how  I  look 
now." 

So  no  doubt  Henriette  had  noticed. 

Well,  it  was  natural  enough!  Ronald's 
death  had  brought  lines  in  her  face,  had  stolen 
away  much  of  her  beauty.  Now  she  knew  that 
it  had  ravaged  her  figure  also.  But  what  did 
that  matter?  She  no  longer  lived  for  the 
world  and  the  world's  opinion.  She  had 
travelled  away  from  the  masquerade. 

But  she  still  stood  there  and  looked  at  her 
figure,  and  there  was  something  of  astonish- 
ment in  her  eyes. 

She  heard  the  door  opened  and  turned  quickly 
round.  Peter  Orwyn  came  in.  He  looked 
tired  and,  she  thought,  harassed,  but  he 
greeted  her  with  his  usual  quiet  self-posses- 
sion. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,  so  disgusted  about  this  at- 
tack on  you,"  she  said  quickly.  "  I  don't  know 
why  Mr  Hammond  is  so  bitter,  but  I  think 


ROBERT  HICHENS  173 

he's  a  conceited  man,  and  I  suppose  he  hon- 
estly believes  he  has  been  taken  in." 

'  Yes,  I  daresay  he  does.  It's  kind  of  you 
to  come.  Sit  down,  Mrs  Marden." 

'  Thank  you.  I  wanted  to  show  you  my 
sympathy." 

"  I  know." 

"  And — something  else.  I  wanted  to  ask 
you  what  you  are  going  to  do." 

Peter  Orwyn  placed  his  large  capable  hands 
on  his  broad  knees. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing,"  he  said  firmly. 

"Nothing?" 

'Why — what   would   you   have   me   do?" 

"  I  don't  quite  know.  But  surely  such  an 
attack  in  such  a  paper  requires  some  answer." 

'  Would  you  expect  me  to  appear  on  a 
conjurer's  platform  before  a  gaping  audience 
and  try  to  bring  the  departed  as  witnesses  that 
I  am  not  a  swindler?  I  couldn't  do  that." 

"  No,  of  course  not." 

"  My  task  is  to  use  my  poor  powers  as  a 
comforter  of  the  bereaved.  I  am  a  witness  to 
a  great  truth.  Am  I  to  go  upon  a  platform  and 
let  sceptical  men  tie  me  up  as  if  I  were  a 
malefactor?  Am  I  to  enter  into  a  contest  with 
an  entertainer?  Am  I  to  be  given  just  so 
many  minutes  to  establish  communication  with 


174  MRS  HARDEN 

the  world  beyond  our  world?  My  own  pow- 
ers are  a  complete  mystery  to  myself.  They  are 
not  like  the  powers  of  a  conjurer  who  practises 
his  tricks,  as  a  dancer  practises  steps,  as  a  singer 
practises  a  part  in  an  opera.  Such  people 
know  exactly  what  they  can  do,  and  they  can 
be  sure  of  doing  it  at  any  time.  I  can't.  I 
don't  even  want  to.  People  like  Mr  Hammond 
are  earthbound.  We  mustn't  blame  them, — they 
can't  help  it.  Those  who  are  in  touch  with 
great  mysteries  are  always  at  a  disadvantage 
in  a  contest  with  purely  practical  people.  The 
mystic  lives  with  God,  but  can  he  hold  his  own 
in  an  argument  with  the  village  doctor?  Prob- 
ably, I  might  almost  say  certainly  not.  It 
is  better  for  him  to  be  silent.  He  knows,  but 
it  is  not  given  to  him  to  make  everyone  else 
know." 

He  paused.  She  noticed  that  drops  of  per- 
spiration glistened  on  his  forehead.  He  drew 
out  from  the  breast  pocket  of  his  braided  coat 
a  large  handkerchief  and  wiped  them  away. 

"  I  absolutely  understand,"  she  said.  '  You 
are  right,  I'm  sure.  And  you  won't  prosecute 
Mr  Hammond  for  libel?" 

"  How  can  I  ?  To  win  my  case,  to  prove  that 
I  am  not  a  swindler,  I  should  have  to  give  an 
exhibition  in  a  court  of  law." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  175 

"  But  you  could  bring  witnesses." 

"  Do  you  think  an  English  Judge  and  Jury 
would  be  convinced  by  them?  Besides,  Mr 
Larrington  declares  he  will  do  by  means  of 
tricks  what  I  do  here  in  this  room." 

"  But  he  can't  do  certain  things.  He  can't 
do  what  has  convinced  me." 

;<  It  would  be  no  use  to  prosecute,"  said 
Orwyn,  "  and  Mr  Hammond  knows  that. 
Otherwise  he  would  never  have  challenged  me 
to  do  it." 

"  But  then — if  you  do  nothing  I  mean — 
you  will  be  discredited." 

Again  the  glistening  drops  stood  out  on  the 
medium's  red  forehead. 

"  Not  among  those  whom  I  have  helped, 
I  hope,"  he  said. 

As  he  spoke  his  dark  eyes  rested  upon  Mrs 
Marden. 

'  You,  Lady  Terrerton,  Mr  Burnley  and 
many  others — you  know  what  I  am?  You 
especially,  Mrs  Marden,  I  can  appeal  to  in  this 
painful  moment,  for  you  were  very  hard  to  con- 
vince. You  thought  me  a  charlatan  at  one 
time,  didn't  you? " 

"  I  was  doubtful  for  a  long  time." 

"  But  you  are  doubtful  no  longer. 

"  No.    But  may  I  be  perfectly  candid? " 


176  MRS  HARDEN 

"  Oh  yes." 

"  Those  things  Larrington  says  he  will  re- 
produce  " 

"Well— well?" 

"  I've  never  been  convinced  about  them." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  May  they  not  be  brought  about  by  some 
peculiar  physical  power  which  might  be  imi- 
tated?" 

"  I  don't  know.  All  I  know  is  that  they 
happen.  What  makes  them  happen  I  could  not 
tell  you.  My  belief  is  that  in  my  case  they  are 
produced  by  spirit  agencies.  But  I  couldn't 
prove  it.  And  after  all  the  greatest  among  us 
live  by  faith  not  by  works.  That  is  my  comfort. 
The  Mr  Hammonds  will  always  think  faith 
to  be  folly,  but  that  does  not  make  it  folly." 

"  No.  But  I  hate  your  being  discredited.  I 
tried — I  did  my  best  to  stop  it." 

"  I  know,  I  know.  And  for  the  sake  of  my 
son,  now  Captain,  I  could  have  wished— 

Suddenly  his  large  face  was  contorted.  It 
twitched  for  a  moment  painfully. 

"  I'm  afraid  in  the  regiment,"  he  said,  "  that 
all  this — the  holding  of  his  Father  up  to  ridicule 
and  contempt  will — will ' 

His  deep  and  strong  voice  was  overclouded 
with  huskiness,  and  he  could  not  continue. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  177 

"Dear  Mr  Orwyn!  "  Mrs  Marden  said. 

Impulsively  she  laid  her  hand  on  one  of  his; 
it  was  hot  and  she  felt  it  trembling. 

"  That's  what  troubles  me  too!  "  she  said.  "  I 
told  Mr  Hammond  how  you  loved  your  boy. 
I  tried  to  make  him  see " 

"Never  mind!  Never  mind!  Harry  is 
respected  by  everyone.  He  fights  like  a  lion. 
He's  afraid  of  nothing.  All  his  comrades  are 
loyal  to  him.  Even  if  they  laugh  at  his  Father 
they  won't  dare  to  laugh  at  him." 

He  straightened  up  in  his  chair  and  threw 
his  head  back.  It  was  evident  to  Mrs  Marden 
that  he  was  making  a  violent  effort  to  reassure 
himself,  to  drive  away  fears  which  beset  him. 

"  Don't  you  think  perhaps  for  Harry's  sake 
you  ought  to  make  some  answer  to  Mr  Ham- 
mond? "  said  Mrs  Marden.  "  I'm  sure  all  those 
who  believe  in  you  will  come  forward.  I  would 
for  one.  I  would  gladly  write  and  acknowledge 
publicly  what  has  convinced  me.  And  so  would 
others  surely." 

But  Orwyn  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  carefully  over,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  have  resolved  to  let  it  alone.  Any 
protest  from  me  would  only  make  things  worse. 
I  should  be  drawn  into  a  controversy.  And  I'm 
no  controversialist.  But  of  course  if  any  of 


178  MRS  HARDEN 

those  whom  I  have  helped  towards  consolation 
care  to  do  anything  I  shall  be  deeply  grateful. 
But  I  shan't  ask  them.  I  shan't  ask  anyone  to 
stand  up  for  me." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door 
and  the  little  maid  came  in  and  said, 

"  If  you  please,  Sir,  there's  a  gentleman  from 
'  The  News  of  the  World '  wants  to  see  you 
very  particular." 

Again  Orwyn's  face  was  contorted  by  a 
spasm. 

"  I  cannot  see  anyone.  I  have  nothing  to 
say,"  he  exclaimed. 

Mrs  Marden  got  up  and  bade  him  good-bye 
quickly.  When  she  reached  the  front  door  she 
came  upon  a  very  tall  and  rather  impressive 
young  man,  who  looked  at  her  with  sharp  curi- 
osity. 

"  Are  you  from  the  '  News  of  the  World  '.?  " 
she  said. 

'  Yes,"  he  said,  taking  off  his  hat. 

"  Mr  Orwyn  can't  see  you— 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  the  little  maid  from  behind. 

"  But  if  you  care  to  walk  a  little  way  with 
me  I  will  gladly  tell  you  something  about 
Mr  Orwyn  which  I  think  may  interest 
you." 

The  young  man  looked  keenly  alert. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  179 

"  That's  just  what  we  want,"  he  said.  "  Our 
readers— 

And  he  strode  away  with  Mrs  Marden  while 
the  little  maid  stared  after  them  with  her  cap 
on  one  side. 

When  he  found  that  he  could  not  draw  Peter 
Orwyn  into  the  open  Hammond  redoubled  his 
attacks.  He  had  wished  to  provoke  a  con- 
troversy and,  though  Orwyn  was  silent,  he 
succeeded  almost  beyond  his  hopes.  Orwyn's 
adherents,  led  by  Mrs  Marden — for  the  young 
man  from  "  The  News  of  the  World  "  knew  his 
business  thoroughly — testified  in  print  to  the 
faith  that  was  in  them.  Lady  Terrerton,  Arthur 
Burnley,  and  many  others,  wrote  to  the  papers 
to  tell  of  their  experiences  in  Hornton  Street. 
And  the  supporters  of  Hammond  held  them  up 
to  ridicule.  The  world  became  aware  of  the 
extraordinary  number  of  adherents  the  be- 
lievers in  spiritualism  had  gained  during  the 
war.  They  were  now  quite  evidently  a  com- 
pact body,  numbering  earnest  people  of  all 
classes,  who  were  ready  to  proclaim  them- 
selves members  of  something  not  unlike  a  new 
religion.  Their  strong  energy  and  determina- 
tion invigorated  Hammond.  He  enlisted  not 
only  clergymen  but  several  prominent  doctors 
under  his  banner;  the  former  to  denounce  the 


180  MRS  HARDEN 

modern  falling  away  from  the  great  truths  of 
divinely  revealed  religion,  the  latter  to  proclaim 
the  dangers  to  health  which  lay  in  wait  for 
those  who  gave  themselves  to  the  pernicious  ex- 
citement of  seances. 

Peter  Orwyn  became  a  sort  of  symbol.  His 
name  was  on  the  lips  of  every  sensation-lover. 
It  became  known  in  the  trenches  of  France. 
Captain  Orwyn  wrote  home  to  his  Father  about 
the  "  infernal  dust-up  ",  as  he  described  it,  which 
was  being  made  with  the  family  name.  His 
letter  was  warm-hearted  and  affectionate,  but 
it  was  obvious  that  he  was  stung  to  the  quick 
by  the  scandal  of  which  his  Dad  was  the  centre. 
He  told  his  Father  in  blunt  soldiers'  language 
that  the  war  had  set  him  more  than  ever  against 
all  the  Tommy-rot  indulged  in  by  some  of  the 
people  who  stayed  at  home.  *  War,"  he  wrote, 
"  makes  one  think.  It  knocks  all  the  nonsense 
out  of  one.  Some  chaps  it  turns  to  religion, 
others  to  just  the  reverse.  But  we  out  here 
admire  the  women  who  are  doing  things,  work- 
ing for  the  country,  the  nurses,  the  munition 
makers,  the  girls  who  are  taking  men's  places 
in  offices  and  banks  to  set  them  free  to  be 
soldiers,  who  are  driving  motors,  working  lifts, 
acting  as  'bus  conductors,  scrubbing  the  floors 
of  the  wards,  taking  the  tickets  and  carrying 


ROBERT  HICHENS  181 

the  luggage  at  the  stations,  toiling  in  the  can- 
teens, or  sweating  on  the  land,  not  the  idlers 
who  sit  in  the  dark  listening  to  table  rappings 
and  spirit  voices.  Good  Lord,  Dad,  what  good 
does  that  do  to  the  country?  Do  give  it  up, 
for  Christ's  sake!  You  know  how  I  always 
hated  it.  But  now  I  simply  can't  stand  it. 
Suppose  I  was  to  stop  a  bullet,  as  I  may  any 
day,  do  you  think  a  table  in  Hornton  Street 
or  anywhere  else'd  bring  me  back  after  I'd  once 
gone  West?  If  you'd  seen  as  many  die  as  I 
have  you'd  know  different.  I've  lost  two  of  my 
closest  pals,  the  best  that  ever  breathed,  and 
I  tell  you  they've  gone — gone  right  away,  and 
wherever  they  are  they're  not  coming  back  to 
this  dirty  world  of  bloody  business.  God  rest 
their  souls,  say  I,  and  I  wish  they  may  be  better 
off  than  we  are." 

Peter  Orwyn's  large  hands  shook  when  he 
read  the  letter  and  moisture  came  into  his  big 
dark  eyes.  Then  he  laid  the  letter  down  and 
sat  still  for  a  long  time.  He  was  a  widower. 
He  had  lost  his  wife  after  the  birth  of  their 
second  boy.  He  was  a  man  with  a  strong  power 
and  a  strong  need  of  affection;  and  although 
he  was  very  fond  of  his  younger  son  the  elder 
was  the  real  pride  of  his  life.  The  day  when 
Harry  had  become  an  officer  had  been  a  great 


182  MRS  HARDEN 

day  for  him,  and  Harry's  promotion  to  a 
Captaincy  had  shaken  him  with  something  like 
exultation.  And  now — he  had  become  almost 
a  shame  to  his  son.  His  heart  burned  within 
him. 

It  happened  that  the  day  on  which  Harry's 
letter  arrived  was  the  day  selected  by  the  con- 
jurer, Larrington,  for  the  first  performance 
of  his  reproduction  at  St.  Patrick's  Hall  of 
Peter  Orwyn's  spiritualistic  manifestations. 
Orwyn  knew  this.  Now  he  took  up  "  The  Daily 
Telegraph "  and  looked  down  its  columns  for 
Larrington's  advertisement.  He  soon  came  to 
it  and  read  his  own  name.  In  the  paper  was 
printed  a  challenge  to  him  to  come  to  the  hall 
and  see  the  performance.  "  Peter  Orwyn  is 
invited  to  be  present  and  to  reproduce,  if  he 
can,  under  test  conditions  Mr  Larrington's 
tricks."  At  the  top  of  the  advertisement  and 
also  at  the  bottom  the  following  words  were 
printed  in  large  letters,  'Will  he  come?" 
Orwyn  looked  at  them  for  a  long  time  then, 
with  an  almost  violent  gesture,  he  tore  the  paper 
in  half  and  flung  it  into  the  empty  grate. 

On  that  same  day,  though  not  at  the  same 
time,  Mrs  Marden  also  read  Larrington's  ad- 
vertisement in  the  "  Telegraph."  In  the  morn- 
ing she  had  received  a  short  note  from  Cecil 


ROBERT  HICHENS  183 

Hammond  containing  an  enclosure.  The  note 
invited  her  to  come  to  St  Patrick's  Hall  to  see 
the  "  performance  ".  The  enclosure  was  a  ticket 
admitting  two  people  to  the  stalls.  On  reading 
Hammond's  note  she  had  at  once  made  up  her 
mind  not  to  go.  But  she  had  not  thrown  the 
ticket  away.  And  now  she  held  it  in  her  hand 
and  looked  at  it  and  then  again  at  the  ad- 
vertisement. 

Something  was  tempting  her  to  go  to  St 
Patrick's  Hall.  Her  advocacy  of  Peter  Orwyn's 
bona  fides  had  been  warm  and  genuine.  All 
the  controversy  about  him  had  not  shaken  her 
faith  in  him  in  regard  to  herself  and  the  voice 
which  had  spoken  to  her.  But  she  had  always 
wondered  about  the  more  material  of  his  mani- 
festations. Could  he  possibly  be  a  trickster 
sometimes,  at  other  times  be  a  genuine  and 
marvellous  medium?  If  so,  he  had  lied  to  her. 
She  hated  to  think  that.  She  could  not  really 
think  it.  "  And  again  she  reverted  to  the  con- 
viction that  certain  phenomena  were  produced, 
in  his  case,  by  mysterious  physical  means  which 
he  did  not  comprehend.  She  wondered  whether 
Larrington  would  really  be  able  to  reproduce 
accurately  all  these  phenomena.  She  would  like 
to  ascertain  that  for  herself.  She  hardly  knew 
why.  But  she  was  very  much  tempted  to  go. 


184  MRS  HARDEN 

Presently  Miss  King  came  in  to  help  her  with 
her  letters.  When  the  short  morning's  work 
was  finished  Mrs  Marden,  almost  in  spite  of 
herself,  told  Miss  King  about  Hammond's  in- 
vitation. 

"  Are  you  going?  "  said  Miss  King. 

"  I  have  a  ticket  for  two.    Shall  we  go?  " 

"  But  as  you  are  absolutely  convinced  what 
would  be  the  use?" 

"  Larrington  cannot  of  course  do  all  that 
Peter  Orwyn  does.  I  know  that.  Any  tricks 
he  may  be  able  to  perform  would  not  shake  my 
belief.  It  isn't  that  I  am  doubting.  But — I 
suppose  it  is  curiosity.  I  do  feel  inclined  to  go." 

"  I  will  come  with  you  with  pleasure  if  you 
wish  it." 

Mrs  Marden  hesitated. 

*  The  only  thing  is  that  if  I  do  go  it  might 
seem  like  a  sort  of  treachery  to  Peter  Orwyn," 
she  said.  "What  do  you  think?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  a  perfect 
right  to  please  yourself  about  it.  But  if  I  were 
you  I  shouldn't  do  anything  that  was  against 
your  own  feeling." 

"  I  scarcely  understand  why  I  want  to  go," 
Mrs  Marden  said  doubtfully.  "  Of  course  you 
have  never  seen  any  of  these  material  manifesta- 
tions." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  185 

"  No." 

"  Before  you  began  coming  to  Hornton  Street 
I  had  told  Mr  Orwyn  how  much  I  disliked  them. 
I  have  never  understood  how  they  were  pro- 
duced— by  him,  I  mean.  But  I  can  quite 
imagine  that  a  real  mystery  might  in  some 
cases  be  imitated  by  a  clever  trickster — a  levita- 
tion  for  instance." 

'  Yes,  it  might  be  so,  I  daresay." 

"Shall  we  go?" 

"  I  can  see  you  want  me  to  say  yes." 

"  Perhaps  I  do,"  said  Mrs  Marden,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

"  I  don't  think  there  can  be  any  harm  in 
going,"  said  Miss  King. 

"  Then  we  will  go." 

They  went. 

The  rather  sombre  hall  was  crowded  with  an 
unusual  audience.  A  great  many  of  Ham- 
mond's adherents  were  there,  but  also  a  good 
many  spiritualists.  Then  there  were  the  lovers 
of  sensation,  journalists,  two  or  three  editors, 
several  well  known  doctors,  and  various  odd 
looking  men  peculiarly  dressed,  with  flexible 
hands,  expressive  but  hard  faces,  and  swiftly 
moving  eyes.  These  were  conjurers  and  magi- 
cians of  "  the  Halls  ".  Some  of  them  had  over- 
dressed and  heavily  painted  women  with  them, 


186  MRS  MARDEN 

who  smiled  meretriciously  without  reason,  and 
who  had  an  air  of  shoddy  celebrity.  They  were 
probably  the  ladies  whose  profession  it  is  to  be 
shut  up  in  baskets  and  cabinets  from  which 
they  mysteriously  evaporate,  to  be  levitated 
while  apparently  asleep,  to  be  passed  through 
hoops,  and  to  be  made  the  receptacles  of 
vanished  objects  gathered  from  the  public  for 
conjurers'  purposes.  There  were  also  a  good 
many  soldiers  and  several  ladies  in  mourning. 

Mrs  Marden  did  not  see  Lady  Terrerton  or 
Arthur  Burnley.  Cecil  Hammond  was  in  a 
box  with  some  friends. 

After  a  few  commonplace  "  turns  "  the  cur- 
tain was  lowered  for  a  moment  and  Hammond 
and  his  friends  left  their  box.  Then  after  a 
pause  Hammond  appeared  before  the  curtain 
and  made  a  speech,  in  which  he  explained  his 
reasons  for  attacking  Peter  Orwyn  and  mediums 
in  general,  and  described  how  Larrington  had 
convinced  him  that  there  was  nothing  but  trick- 
ery in  their  "  manifestations  ".  He  dwelt  upon 
the  wave  of  emotion — a  tidal  wave  of  grief  and 
longing,  he  called  it — which  had  inundated 
London  because  of  the  war,  upon  the  nerve 
disturbance  caused  by  the  air  raids,  and  upon 
the  prevalence  of  hysteria,  neurosis,  acute 
neurasthenia,  and  kindred  complaints,  among 


ROBERT  HICHENS  187 

all  classes  of  people.  He  quoted  the  statements 
of  celebrated  doctors  in  support  of  his  conten- 
tion that  few  of  the  dwellers  in  cities  visited 
by  aircraft  were  in  a  perfectly  normal  condi- 
tion. He  also  gave  the  opinions  of  several 
clergymen  on  the  mental  state  of  their  flocks. 
And  he  finished  up  by  saying  that  in  the  soul 
and  nerve  misery  of  London  the  charlatans  had 
found  the  greatest  opportunity  of  their  lives. 
They  were  war  profiteers,  making  money  out 
of  disease,  ruthless  exploiters  of  the  grief  which 
should  be  sacred,  and  of  the  longings  which  cried 
to  Heaven  for  consolation.  They  were  harpies 
who  fed  upon  the  slain,  those  struck  down  in 
the  soul  by  the  hand  of  Fate.  It  was  time  that 
they  were  exposed,  that  their  criminal  cynicism 
was  put  an  end  to,  that  they  were  driven  off 
from  their  prey — the  gullible  public.  Mr  Lar- 
rington,  an  honest  man,  who  earned  his  living 
by  skill,  and  who  made  no  pretence  that  his 
skill  was  anything  else,  would  show  them  that 
he  could  do  all  that,  and  even  more  than,  Peter 
Orwyn  and  his  fellow-tricksters  one  and  all 
of  them — could  do. 

At  the  end  of  his  speech  Hammond  paused 
for  a  moment  and  looked  about  the  hall. 

"  I  see  here  several  of  Peter  Orwyn's  ad- 
herents," he  said.  "But  I  don't  see  Peter 


188  MRS  HARDEN 

Orwyn.  We  have  invited  him  to  come  here,  to 
come  upon  the  stage  and  prove  under  test 
conditions  that  his  feats  are  not  accomplished 
by  trickery.  Is  he  here?  Is  Mr.  Orwyn  here? 
If  so  I  invite  him  to  come  forward." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  many 
of  the  audience  turned  their  heads  and  looked 
eagerly  along  the  rows  behind  them. 

"  He  is  not  here,"  said  Hammond,  in  a 
sarcastic  voice.  "  Well,  I  didn't  expect  him. 
It's  no  use  waiting.  So  I  will  make  way  for 
Mr  Larrington." 

And  he  walked  off  the  stage. 

After  a  moment  the  curtain  drew  up,  show- 
ing a  stage  hung  with  black.  On  it  was  a 
table  spread  with  the  musical  instruments  used 
by  Peter  Orwyn,  a  "  cabinet ",  and  a  row  of 
chairs.  Fastened  to  the  black  draperies  were 
several  frames  covered  with  glass.  A  bell  was 
struck  behind  the  scenes  and  then  Larrington 
appeared.  Mrs  Marden  had  never  seen  him 
before,  and  she  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of 
hostile  interest. 

He  was  a  very  thin  lanky  man  of  about 
forty,  with  a  long  white  face,  a  large  pointed 
nose,  an  effeminate  mouth  with  pale  flexible 
lips  turning  down  at  the  corners,  meagre  black 
hair  streaked  forward  to  cover  a  partially  bald 


ROBERT  HICHENS  189 

head,  and  small  shining  black  eyes  which  glanced 
swiftly,  with  keen  self-possession  over  the  audi- 
ence. His  hands  had  abnormally  long  and 
square  tipped  fingers.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
braided  morning  coat  and  striped  trousers,  like 
Peter  Orwyn.  He  looked  horrid  but  very 
sharp,  even  clever,  and  he  was  obviously  very 
sure  of  himself.  Advancing  to  the  footlights, 
with  a  rather  mincing  gait,  in  a  thin,  but  pene- 
trating voice,  with  common  inflections,  he 
addressed  the  audience. 

Rapidly,  and  with  sarcastic  emphasis,  he  in- 
formed it  of  his  first  meeting  with  Mr  Ham- 
mond, and  of  how  he  convinced  that  eminent 
gentleman  that  Orwyn  and  all  his  kind  were 
merely  conjurers,  more  or  less  skilful,  mas- 
querading as  men — or  women — possessed  of 
supernormal  powers.  Over  and  over  again, 
he  said,  through  the  ages  people  of  this  kind 
had  been  exposed,  on  the  continent,  here,  and  in 
America,  but  the  credulity  of  the  human  race 
seemed  to  be  limitless,  and  with  each  new  genera- 
tion new  dupes  were  provided  to  fill  the  pockets 
of  the  unscrupulous  imitators  of  the  well  known 
charlatans  of  the  past.  Even  science  itself  some- 
times fell  an  easy  prey  to  these  clumsy  pre- 
varicators, these  awkward  and  half-fledged 
magicians,  not  one  of  whom  would  he,  Lar- 


190  MRS  HARDEN 

rington,  consider  competent  to  appear  on  his 
stage  even  if  they  forsook  their  shibboleths 
and  were  anxious  to  earn  an  honest  living. 

'  They  know,"  he  said  piercingly,  "  that  I 
can  beat  them  all  at  their  own  dirty  game  and 
not  one  of  them  would  dare  to  come  near 
me!" 

He  added  that  he  had  not  only  issued  the 
public  challenge  to  Peter  Orwyn,  but  that  he 
had  also  written  to  him  privately  inviting  him 
to  come  to  the  hall  that  day  and  give  evidence 
of  his  powers  as  a  medium,  and  promising  that 
in  the  event  of  Orwyn's  giving  any  convincing 
proof  that  he  could  cause  spirits  to  return  to  this 
world  he,  Larrington,  would  publicly  acknowl- 
edge that  his  attack  on  the  medium's  bona  fides 
had  been  devoid  of  foundation,  and  would  pay 
five  hundred  pounds  to  any  war  charity  in 
which  Orwyn  was  interested. 

There  was  considerable  applause  at  this  point, 
and  Larrington  greeted  it  with  a  sickly,  but  self- 
satisfied  smile.  Then  holding  up  his  right  hand 
he  continued. 

Orwyn  had  made  no  public  reply  to  the  chal- 
lenge, no  private  reply  to  the  letter.  He  had 
taken  refuge  in  impenetrable  silence.  But 
nevertheless  he  might  have  decided  on  a 
dramatic  appearance  in  their  midst.  He  might 


ROBERT  HICHENS  191 

be  even  now  in  the  hall.  There  was  still  time 
for  him  to  take  up  the  challenge. 

"Is  Mr  Orwyn  here?"  exclaimed  the  con- 
jurer, with  the  theatrical  emphasis  of  the  ac- 
complished showman. 

There  was  a  dead  silence. 

"  Is  he  here  ?  "  reiterated  Larrington.  "  I 
call  upon  Peter  Orwyn,  the  medium  of  11  B 
Hornton  Street,  Kensington,  to  come  up  here, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  committee  of  eminent 
men  whom  I  have  persuaded  to  assist  me,  to 
give  us  a  proof  that  he  can  do  anything  which 
I  cannot  do  equally  well,  or  much  better,  by 
means  of  pure  trickery." 

Again  there  was  a  silence. 

"  Mr  Orwyn  has  wisely  remained  secluded 
among  his  disciples  in  Hornton  Street,"  said 
Larrington,  raising  a  laugh  in  the  audience.  "  I 
commend  his  prudence,  and  now,  without 
further  delay,  I  will  proceed  to  show  you  that 
a  poor  earthbound  conjurer,  who  is  not  ad- 
mitted to  any  intercourse  with  other  worlds 
than  this,  can  be  quite  as  ingenious  as  the 
modern  Cagliostro." 

Retreating  a  few  steps,  with  a  fixed  smile  on 
his  clean-shaven  face,  he  made  a  gesture  towards 
the  left  side  of  the  stage,  and  immediately  the 
committee  of  eminent  men  filed  into  view  and 


192  MRS  HARDEN 

took  their  seats  on  the  chairs  placed  ready  for 
them.  Mr.  Larrington  named  each  one  to  the 
audience  in  turn,  and  after  a  few  more  words 
in  explanation  of  what  happened  at  the  average 
seance  in  Hornton  Street — or  in  any  other 
retreat  where  a  medium  succeeded  in  gathering 
a  few  dupes  around  him — the  lights  were  slightly 
lowered,  the  conjurer  and  the  committee  men 
assembled  themselves  round  the  large  table  in 
the  centre  of  the  stage  and  the  seance  began. 

When  it  was  over,  and  all  Peter  Orwyn's 
more  striking  manifestations  had  been  faith- 
fully reproduced  in  full  sight  of  the  audience, 
Larrington  came  forward  once  more. 

"  I  hope  you  are  satisfied,"  he  said. 

There  was  loud  applause. 

"  I  see — or  rather  I  hear  that  you  are.  But 
Mr  Hammond  tells  me  that  there  are  several 
of  Peter  Orwyn's  adherents  present  among  us 
to-day.  Have  any  of  them  anything  to  say? 
Are  any  of  them  dissatisfied?  Are  they  con- 
vinced that  all  Peter  Orwyn  can  do  I  can  do? 
I'm  sure  we  should  be  very  glad  to  hear  their 
opinion." 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

Miss  King  looked  at  Mrs  Marden,  who  was 
sitting  quite  still  gazing  at  the  conjurer.  There 
was  a  stir  in  the  audience.  Several  people 


ROBERT  HICHENS  193 

looked  round.  A  small  old  man  in  the  middle 
of  the  stalls  had  risen  to  his  feet. 

'  Yes,  Sir? "  said  Larrington,  leaning  for- 
ward with  a  smile.  '  What  have  you  to  say? " 

:<  I  am  not  convinced,"  said  the  little  old 
man,  in  a  quavering  voice. 

"  No?    And  why  is  that,  may  I  ask?  " 

"  Mr  Orwyn — Mr  Orwyn—  * 

'  Yes,  Sir?  I  am  listening.  We  are  all 
listening  to  you." 

"  Mr  Orwyn "  repeated  the  little  old  man. 

He  took  out  a  red  pocket  handkerchief, 
passed  it  over  his  face,  then  put  it  to  his  eyes, 
and  sat  down,  or  rather  sank  down  in  his  seat, 

A  murmur  ran  through  the  audience  almost 
like  a  wind  running  through  long  grass.  Several 
people  stood  up  to  look  at  the  man  who  had  not 
been  convinced.  But  he  said  nothing  more.  He 
was  obviously  overcome  by  his  feelings  and 
was  perhaps  afraid  now  of  his  own  temerity. 
Larrington  waited  for  a  moment.  But  nothing 
more  happened,  and  at  last  he  said, 

"  Gentlemen  and  ladies,  I  thank  you  for  your 
kind  attention.  If  no  one  else  has  anything  to 
say  I  will  not  keep  you  any  longer." 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  Then  at  a  sign 
from  the  conjurer  the  curtain  was  lowered  and 
the  performance  was  at  an  end. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

As  they  went  slowly  out  in  the  crowd  Mrs 
Harden  said  to  Miss  King, 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  that  poor  little  man 
who  stood  up.  Can  you  see  him? " 

"  No,"  said  Miss  King. 

"  Perhaps  we  shall  come  across  him  at  the 
entrance.  I  want  to  find  out  whether  he  has 
had  a  similar  experience  to  mine.  I  feel  almost 
sure  he  has." 

As  the  crowd  began  to  split  up  and  to  flow 
out  into  the  darkness  of  London  taking  various 
directions  both  Mrs  Marden  and  Miss  King 
looked  for  the  little  man.  But  they  could  not 
find  him.  Doubtless  he  had  crept  away  carrying 
his  poor  little  secret  with  him.  Mrs  Marden 
seemed  disappointed  at  the  failure  of  her  search 
for  him.  As  she  drove  to  Hans  Place  with 
Miss  King  she  scarcely  said  a  word,  and  when 
they  were  together  in  the  room  where  she  did 
her  business  she  was  almost  painfully  preoccu- 
pied. 

:<  I  wish  I  hadn't  gone ! "  she  said  at  last, 
breaking  away  almost  with  violence  from  her 
strained  reserve.  "  I  wish  I  had  never  set 

194 


ROBERT  HICHENS  195 

eyes  on  Larrington.  I'm  sure  he  is  a  horrible 
man.  Compare  his  appearance  with  Mr 
Orwyn's.  Who  wouldn't  trust  the  latter  rather 
than  the  former? " 

"  I  much  prefer  Mr  Orwyn's  face,"  said  Miss 
King.  "  But  why  are  you  sorry  you  went?  " 

"  Well,  Larrington  has  proved  to  me  what  ex- 
traordinary things  can  be  done  by  trickery.  Of 
course  I  knew  conjurers  were  very  clever,  but 
—it  all  might  have  happened  in  Hornton 
Street." 

"  But  when  it  did  happen  there  you  disliked 
it.  You  told  me  so." 

'  Yes.    I  always  hated  that  part." 

"So  it  was  not  that  sort  of  thing  that  con- 
vinced you."  j 

"  No.     But  don't  you  see " 

She  stopped.  She  was  looking  straight  be- 
fore her,  and  her  brows  frowned  above  her  dark 
eyes. 

'  We  are  all  of  us  made  up  of  good  and 
bad,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  following 
up  aloud  a  train  of  thought.  "  Straight  one 
minute,  crooked  the  next,  now  truthful,  now 
deceptive.  We  aren't  all  of  a  piece — are  we?" 

She  looked  at  her  friend. 

"  No,  but  I  think  many  of  us  are  more  of 
a  piece  than  that." 


196  MRS  HARDEN 

"Than  what?" 

"  Well,  I  think  a  straight  man  or  woman 
is  straight  right  through  more  often  than 
not." 

"Do  you?  and  a  deceitful,  a  crooked  man?" 

"  It  would  be  very  difficult  to  me  to  trust 
anyone  ever  who  had  once  deliberately  deceived 
me." 

"  I  think  you  are  too  drastic,  Emily.  I  don't 
think  you  allow  enough  for  the  temptations 
that  assail  people." 

"  Perhaps  not." 

After  a  pause  Miss  King  said, 

"  Of  course  I  know  you  are  thinking  about 
Mr  Orwyn." 

'  Yes.  I  suppose  after  what  you  have  seen 
to-day  you  think  he  is  a  fraud." 

"  But  you  forget — he  has  never  produced 
most  of  those  manifestations  when  I  have  been 
there." 

'  Well,  I  have  seen  them  all,"  Mrs  Marden 
said  with  a  sort  of  profound  dejection.  '  They 
must  be  tricks!  They  must  be  tricks!  But  if 
they  are  what  is  Peter  Orwyn  but  a  swindler 
and  a  liar? " 

An  almost  desperate  look  came  into  her  lined 
face. 

"  If  the  belief  I  came  to  in  Hornton  Street 


ROBERT  HICHENS  197 

were  to  be  taken  away  from  me  I  should  be 
finished!  "  she  said.  "  There  would  be  nothing 
left  to  me,  nothing.  You  see  how  I  have  altered 
even  as  it  is.  I'm  almost  an  old  woman.  Any 
beauty  I  once  had  has  gone.  And  even  my 
figure — have  you  noticed  how  my  figure  has 
altered  lately?" 

"  I've  noticed  that  you've  been  getting  very 
thin." 

"Ah?" 

'Will  you  do  something  if  I  ask  you?" 

"What*  is   it?" 

'*  Will  you  see  a  good  doctor  ?  " 

"  A  doctor!  "  Mrs  Harden  said  as  if  startled. 
"  You  don't  think  I'm  ill,  do  you? " 

"  I  don't  think  you  look  at  all  well." 

"  How  can  I  be  well  when  I  suffer  so  much?  " 
Mrs  Marden  said,  almost  angrily.  "  Besides, 
how  can  doctors  minister  to  a  mind  diseased? 
There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me  except 
misery." 

"  But  lately  you  have  been  so  much  happier. 
And  yet  in  spite  of  that — I  think  you  ought  to 
see  a  doctor." 

'  But  when  I've  nothing  the  matter  with  me!  " 

''  Perhaps  you  need  a  cure." 

*  The  only  cure  for  me  is  to  be  certain  one 
way  or  the  other  about  Peter  Orwyn." 


198  MRS  HARDEN 

"  But  you  told  me  you  knew  it  was  your 
son's  voice  that  has  .spoken  to  you.  How  could 
Mr  Orwyn  imitate  your  son  if  he  never  knew 
him?" 

"  I  don't  know.  It  seems  impossible.  But 
if  I  have  deceived  myself?  If  I  am  one  of  the 
fools  ?  I  have  longed  to  believe.  That's  danger- 
ous. I  know  it  by  my  observation  of  other 
people.  Nearly  everyone  I  know  well  believes 
•what  he  or  she  wants  to  believe.  Men  wouldn't 
believe  this  war  was  coming  because  they  didn't 
want  to.  And  so  it  is  in  the  opposite  way.  We 
won't  see  what  we  don't  want  to  see,  and  we 
will  see  what  we  wish  for." 

"  But  we  all  have  to  face  the  inevitable.  There 
are  things  we  can't  escape  from." 

"  The  other  afternoon  I  was  alone  in  Peter 
Orwyn's  room  in  the  sunlight,"  said  Mrs 
Marden. 

"Yes?" 

"  I  went  and  stood  by  the  table  and  touched 
it.  I  thought  '  If  I  were  dead  how  could  Peter 
Orwyn  bring  me  back  from  the  other  world  to 
speak  to  anyone  who  loved  me  ? '  The  sun 
streamed  in  at  the  windows  and — it  seemed  to 
me  that  such  a  thing  couldn't  be.  I  looked  in 
the  glass  that  day  and  noticed  how  thin  I  had 
grown.  A  sort  of  cold,  almost  icy,  reality  was 


ROBERT  HICHENS  199 

with  me  just  then,  I  think.  And  it  seemed  to 
deny  many  things.  Oh,  how  we  poor  creatures 
struggle!  Life  tears  us  to  pieces.  We  are 
fighting  in  the  sea  for  a  plank  to  cling  to.  We 
don't  want  to  drown.  That's  it!  We  don't 
want  to  drown." 

'  There's  something  that  seems  to  me 
strange,"  said  Miss  King.  "  May  I  say  what 
it  is?" 

'  Yes,  of  course.  You  may  say  anything  to> 
me." 

'  You  have  believed  in  Peter  Orwyn  in 
spite  of  all  those  manifestations  which  never 
convinced  you,  why  is  it  that  you  can't  have  any 
faith,  any  trust,  in  God?  " 

"God!" 

"  Yes." 

"What  do  I  know  of  God?  I  can't  see 
God.  I  can't  get  at  God.  I  can't  even  con- 
ceive what  God  is." 

"  But  can't  you  feel  God? " 

"How?" 

"  In  yourself? " 

"  I  see  injustice  everywhere " 

"  And  what  makes  you  know  it  is  injustice 
and  hate  it?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  I  think  it's  God." 


200  MRS  HARDEN 

"  But  all  the  misery,  the  horrors  of  this 
war— 

"  And  all  the  nobility,  the  heroism,  the  self- 
lessness, the  self-sacrificing  love  of  country,  the 
readiness  to  give  up  everything  for  an  idea,  the 
idea  of  country.  Where  has  it  all  come  from  ? " 

"I  don't  know." 

"  I'm  sure  it  comes  from  God  every  bit  of  it. 
Every  soldier  boy  who  went  of  his  own  accord 
to  fight  out  there  was  just  told  to  go  by  God. 
That's  what  I  think.  And  I  think  what  they 
call  '  going  West '  is  just  going  to  God." 

Mrs  Marden  was  silent. 

"  So  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  really  need  Peter 
Orwyn  to  show  me  anything,  or  prove  any- 
thing to  me,  though  I'm  interested,  very  much 
interested  sometimes,  in  the  sittings." 

"  Emily,"  Mrs  Marden  said  very  simply,  "  I 
wish  I  were  like  you." 

Miss  King  blushed. 

"  I  can't  think  why  you  wish  that,"  she  said. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why.  It's  because  you're  so 
real.  You're  like  a  little  bit  of  rock  without  any 
of  rock's  coldness." 

Miss  King  blushed  more  deeply. 

"How  that  man  must  have  loved  you!" 
added  Mrs  Marden.  '  But  tell  me — if  you 
heard  his  voice,  spoke  to  him,  do  you  mean  to 


ROBERT  HICHENS  201 

say  that  wouldn't  make  you  more  sure  than 
you  are  now  that  he  exists  somewhere?" 

"  No,  I  don't  think  it  would.  In  fact  it 
wouldn't.  Because  when  you  are  quite  sure 
of  something  you  can't  become  more  sure  of  it." 

"  I  shall  never  believe  like  that,  never.  It 
isn't  in  me.  If  it  was  what  I  have  seen  to-day 
couldn't  have  upset  me  as  it  has." 

'What  are  you  going  to  do?  Are  you  not 
going  to  sit  again?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  feel — I  feel 
almost  distracted  to-day." 

She  went  a  little  way  off  to  a  corner  of  the 
room  where  there  was  a  mirror  and  stared  at 
herself  in  it. 

"I  look  horrible!"  she  said.  "I  must  have 
lost  pounds  in  the  last  few  weeks." 

"  Do  take  my  advice  and  see  a  medical  man." 

"  Perhaps  I  will.  But  I  must  see  Mr  Orwyn 
first." 

"  Are  you  going  to  tell  him  about  the  per- 
formance? " 

"  I  think  I  must.  I  suppose  he  will  be  very 
angry  with  me  for  having  gone.  But  still — 
if  only  I  were  one  of  those  who  can  shut  their 
eyes  and  just  believe!  But  perhaps  he  will 
make  me  believe.  If  only  I  could  really  test 
him!" 


202  MRS  HARDEN 

"  But  you  have  tested  him  in  a  way." 

"  Not  really.  There's  only  one  test  I  could 
absolutely  trust,  that  would  make  me  know 
absolutely  whether  he  is  genuine  or  not  genu- 
ine." 

"What  test  is  that?" 

"  It's  rather  horrible.  You  might  almost 
hate  me  for  thinking  of  it.  I  thought  of  it  long 
ago." 

"  What  is  it?    Can  you  tell  me?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  tell  anyone  else.  If  Captain 
Orwyn  were  to  be  killed  I'm  sure  I  should  know 
whether  Peter  Orwyn  believed  the  dead  do  re- 
turn, or  not." 

"  I  hope  he  won't  be  killed,"  said  Miss  King 
soberly. 

"  Don't  imagine  I  could  ever  wish  such  a 
thing." 

"  Of  course  I  know  you  couldn't." 

"  It's  only  that  then  I  should  know.  If  he 
were  a  fraud  he  couldn't  keep  it  up  any  longer 
then.  He  loves  his  son  too  much.  And  love 
is  terribly  sincere  in  the  great  moments." 

When  Miss  King  had  gone  Mrs  Marden  sat 
for  a  long  while  thinking  about  what  she  had 
said.  Miss  King  had  brought  home  to  her  the 
exact,  as  it  were  the  inner,  meaning  of  faith 
as  somehow  it  had  never  been  brought  home  to 


ROBERT  HICHENS  203 

her  before.  She  seemed  now  to  be  looking  at 
faith  as  one  may  look  at  some  object  of  shining 
mystery,  at  a  jewel  with  wonderful  lights,  won- 
derful depths  in  it,  or  at  a  fire  with  a  still  red 
heart  glowing  marvellously,  and  offshoots  of 
leaping  coloured  flames.  Faith  was  stranger 
than  any  jewel  or  fire.  Whence  did  it 
come?  Why  did  one  possess  it  and  another 
not? 

That,  too,  was  one  of  the  mysteries,  one  that 
could  not  be  touched  by  Larrington's  long- 
fingered  hands.  She  hated  to  think  of  Lar- 
rington.  His  attack  upon  Peter  Orwyn  had 
seemed  to  her  horribly  coarse  and  almost  like 
an  attack  upon  herself.  Really  it  had  been  an 
attack  upon  herself.  She  felt  bruised  and 
weary,  and  full  of  acute  apprehension.  But 
she  had  had  her  disaster  and  surely  nothing 
worse  could  fall  upon  her  than  that  which  had 
fallen  already.  She  had  managed  to  bear  that 
blow  without  breaking  under  it;  she  could  bea"r 
anything  else.  But  she  didn't  want  to  suffer 
any  more.  She  had  had  enough.  She  had 
surely  paid  in  the  last  few  months  for  all  her 
years  of  happiness,  those  years  which  seemed 
lost  far  away  in  the  mists  of  the  old  world  be- 
fore the  war. 

She  was  terribly  restless  that  day  and  felt 


204  MRS  MARDEN 

driven  to  some  feverish  activity.  Should  she  put 
on  her  hat,  order  a  taxicab  and  go  to  see  Peter 
Orwyn?  She  wanted  to  go  and  yet  she  was 
afraid  to  go.  After  much  hesitation  she  told 
Hanson  to  get  her  a  cab,  and  went  upstairs 
to  dress  for  going  out.  Jt  was  nearly  seven 
o'clock.  Hanson  came  to  tell  her  the  cab  was 
at  the  door.  She  went  out  and  got  into  it. 

"Where  shall  I  tell  him  to  drive,  Ma'am?" 
said  Hanson. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  to- 

She  was  about  to  say  Hornton  Street,  but 
she  suddenly  changed  her  mind. 

"  He  can  drive  on — towards  the  Park.  I'll 
tell  him  myself  presently." 

"  Very  well,  Ma'am." 

The  order  was  given  and  she  drove  off. 

When  she  was  nearing  Hyde  Park  Corner 
she  leaned  out  and  said  to  the  man, 

"  Please  go  to  St  Martin's  Church  in  Trafal- 
gar Square." 

"Right,   Mum." 

The  man  drove  down  Piccadilly. 

When  they  reached  the  church,  which  is  al- 
ways open,  Mrs  Marden  asked  the  man  to  wait, 
got  out  and  ascended  the  steps.  She  had 
never  been  to  the  church  since  the  day  of  the 
memorial  service  for  Ronald.  She  went  in  and 


ROBERT  HICHENS  205 

sat  down  in  a  pew  not  far  from  the  door.  There 
were  a  few  people  scattered  about,  some  sitting, 
some  kneeling  and  praying.  One  was  a  tall 
young  Colonial  soldier  with  "  Canada  "  on  his 
shoulder.  He  was  not  far  from  Mrs  Harden. 
She  sat  looking  at  him.  Miss  King's  remarks 
about  the  soldiers  were  in  her  mind.  Probably 
that  young  man  was  on  leave.  He  might  be 
going  to  the  front,  she  supposed,  any  day.  Per- 
haps he  was  starting  almost  immediately  and 
had  come  to  the  church  to  prepare.  He  was  sit- 
ting straight  up,  tall,  rigid,  his  eyes  turned 
towards  the  chancel.  But  presently  he  knelt 
down.  She  wondered  if  he  was  one  of  those 
who  was  fated  to  "go  West "  before  the  war 
was  over.  Then  she  wondered  very  much 
what  was  in  his  mind,  whether  he  thought,  as 
Miss  King  thought,  that  "  going  West  "  was 
just  going  to  God.  She  supposed  he  was  pray- 
ing. Following  his  example  she  knelt  down  too, 
but  she  did  not  hide  her  face  in  her  hands.  She 
just  knelt  and  looked  at  the  distant  altar.  And 
she  tried  to  "  feel "  God,  she  tried  very  hard 
and  with  an  intense  desire  to  succeed  in  her 
effort.  For  she  was  afraid  and  she  longed  to 
get  rid  of  her  haunting  fear.  If  she  lost  the 
one  belief  she  had — she  had  not  lost  it  yet;  but 
the  events  of  the  day  had  struck  a  hard  blow 


206  MRS  HARDEN 

at  it — and  could  not  replace  it  by  another  she 
did  not  know  what  would  happen  to  her.  And 
Miss  King's  few  words  had  made  a  tremendous 
impression  upon  her.  It  must  be  wonderful  to 
be  so  sure  of  the  further  existence  that 
no  proof  could  make  you  more  certain;  it 
must  be  wonderful  not  to  want  any  proof. 
"  Seeing  is  believing  "  —yes.  But  not  even  to 
want  to  see,  not  even  to  want  to  hear — that 
makes  the  human  being  safe.  If  she  were  as 
Emily  King  she  could  bear  to  hear  Peter  Orwyn 
confess  himself  a  trickster  without  even  a 
tremor.  Such  a  confession  would  make  no  dif- 
ference to  her. 

If  only  she  could  "feel"  God!  How  little 
Peter  Orwyn  and  his  truth  or  lies  would  matter 
to  her  then!  She  would  not  even  want  to 
test  him  if  she  were  as  Emily  King  was,  as 
probably  that  young  Canadian  soldier  in  front 
of  her  was. 

"Faith — give  me  faith!"  her  soul  cried  out 
almost  desperately.  '  Why  should  I  not  have 
it  when  so  many  of  the  humblest,  the  poorest, 
the  most  afflicted  have  it,  when  even  young 
soldiers  in  contact  with  the  coarseness,  the  wick- 
edness, the  brutality,  the  hideous  horrors  of  the 
world  have  it,  and  cannot  lose  it?  If  the  foul- 
ness of  war  doesn't  take  it  from  them  why 


ROBERT  HICHENS  207 

should  I,  who  have  been  sheltered  from  all  the 
attacking  forces  of  evil,  why  should  I  not  be 
able  to  have  it?  I  will  have  it." 

But  faith  did  not  come  to  her  in  the  quiet 
church.  She  did  not  feel  God;  she  only  felt 
her  own  desperation.  She  cried  out,  and  no 
voice  answered  her.  Or,  if  any  voice  answered 
she  was  unable  to  hear  it. 

Presently  the  Canadian  soldier  rose  from  his 
knees,  got  up,  took  his  cap  and  came  out  of 
his  pew.  As  he  drew  near  to  Mrs  Marden, 
who  was  still  on  her  knees,  he  looked  at  her. 
He  had  large  slate-coloured  eyes  with  very  long 
dark  lashes.  As  they  rested  on  hers  she  felt  a 
strong  impulse  to  speak  to  him.  She  got  up 
quickly  and  followed  him  out  of  the  church. 
Under  the  porch  she  came  up  with  him. 

"Are  you  going  to  France?"  she  said. 

'  Yes,"  he  replied,  speaking  with  a  strong 
accent  in  a  rather  boyish  voice.  '  We  are  off 
to-morrow  morning." 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  wish  you  well,"  she  said. 

The  young  soldier  took  her  hand  without  any 
diffidence.  He  did  not  seem  at  all  surprised  by 
her  accosting  him. 

*  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  we  shall  do 
all  that's  expected  of  us." 


208  MRS  HARDEN 

"  I  am  sure  you  will.  I  have  had  a  son 
fighting." 

"Is  he  back  now?" 

"  No — he's — he's  gone  West." 

The  soldier  looked  hard  at  her.  There  was 
a  very  kind  expression  just  then  in  his  eyes. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said.  "  But  I  expect  he's 
better  off  than  some  of  us  are.  Not  that  I 
want  to  go  just  yet.  But  it's  all  in  the  day's 
work,  and  if  my  time  comes,  well,  I  shall 
find  myself  with  some  of  the  best  over 
there." 

He  made  a  curious  gesture.  To  Mrs  Marden 
it  seemed  half  indifferent,  half  romantic. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  think  of  you 
when  you've  gone." 

"That's  good!"  he  returned. 

He  saluted  her  and  went  down  the  steps. 

When  he  had  disappeared  in  the  throng  of 
people  and  vehicles  which  is  generally  passing 
near  the  entrance  to  Charing  Cross  and  the 
Strand  Mrs  Marden  paid  off  the  chauffeur  of  the 
taxicab  and  walked  all  the  way  to  Hans  Place. 
She  went  through  the  Admiralty  Arch,  along 
the  Mall,  skirted  Buckingham  Palace  and 
passed  by  Victoria  Station.  The  news  boards 
were  out  near  the  Grosvenor  Hotel.  On  one 
she  saw  in  huge  letters, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  209 

THE  EVENING  NEWS.    LATE  EDITION 

Exposure  of  a  Famous 

Medium 

She  did  not  buy  the  paper.    On  another  board 
she  saw, 

Larrington's  Attack 

on 
Peter  Orwyn,  the  Medium. 

At  that  moment  she  hated  the  world  and  felt 
utterly  disgusted  with   life. 

For  several  days  there  was  a  good  deal  in 
the  papers  about  Larrington's  performance  and 
conjuring  versus  spiritualism.  Then  the  matter 
died  down,  and  some  fresh  sensation  took  its 
place.  A  little  girl  was  abducted,  or  a  returned 
soldier  murdered  his  faithless  wife  with  a  ham- 
mer— or  something  happened  which  had  fascina- 
tion for  the  public.  And — there  was  always 
the  war  for  those  who  considered  that  more 
important  than  the  follies  and  crimes  of  their 
neighbours.  During  those  days  Mrs  Marden's 
life  seemed  to  her  to  be  as  it  were  in  abeyance. 
She  lived  in  a  lull;  she  moved  in  a  still,  brood- 
ing, and  yet  curiously  dead  atmosphere;  she  did 
very  little.  She  seemed  to  be  waiting,  to  be 
obliged  to  wait,  to  be  imprisoned  in  a  pause. 


210  MRS  HARDEN 

Now  and  then  she  looked  in  the  glass.  And 
each  time  she  did  so  she  thought  her  body  was 
thinner.  Her  face,  too,  was  certainly  getting 
very  thin;  it  was  becoming  almost  sharp  in  its 
outline. 

"  I  shall  look  like  a  witch  presently  if  this 
goes  on,"  she  said  to  herself. 

But  she  did  not  go  to  a  doctor.  It  seemed 
that  the  prison  of  the  pause  prevented  her  from 
doing  anything  so  definite  as  that. 

But  at  last — she  did  not  know  why — the  em- 
bargo was  silently  removed.  She  woke  up  one 
morning  and  felt  a  renewed  sense  of  activity; 
more  than  that  she  felt  that  the  time  had  ar- 
rived when  she  had  to  do  a  very  definite,  very 
important  thing.  When  she  was  dressed  and 
had  breakfasted  she  knew  what  it  was;  she  had 
to  see  Peter  Orwyn  again  that  day. 

About  eleven  o'clock  she  telephoned  to  Horn- 
ton  Street.  Orwyn  himself  answered  her.  She 
knew  his  deep  voice  at  once. 

"  Can  I  come  to  see  you  to-day?"  she  asked. 
"It's  Mrs  Marden." 

"  To  see  me?  Do  you  mean  for  a  sitting? " 
said  the  deep  voice. 

She  had  not  meant  to  ask  for  a  sitting,  but 
now  she  hesitated.  Before  she  spoke  Orwyn 
said, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  211 

"  I  feeL  unequal  to  a  sitting  to-day." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  ill  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  couldn't  possibly  sit  to-day. 
There  would  be  no  power." 

Mrs  Marden  now  thought  there  was  some- 
thing strange  in  the  sound  of  the  voice. 

"Nothing  has  happened,  I  hope?"  she  said. 

"  No." 

'  Then  might  I  come  this  afternoon  to  pay 
you  a  short  visit? " 

"  Certainly  if  you  wish  it." 

'  Thank  you.  I  will  come  about  five.  Will 
that  do?" 

"  Yes." 

"Good-bye  till  then." 

"  Good-bye,  Mrs  Marden." 

She  put  the  receiver  up. 

"  I  wonder  what  is  the  matter  with  Peter 
Orwyn? "  she  thought. 

The  telephone  seemed  to  have  conveyed  to  her 
not  merely  his  voice  but  something  else,  some- 
thing of  his  mind,  of  perturbation,  of  heavy 
anxiety,  something  troubled. 

'  What  can  be  the  matter? "  she  thought. 

She  had  not  seen  Orwyn  since  Larrington's 
exposure  and  attack.  Perhaps  they  had  pro- 
duced a  profound  effect  upon  Orwyn.  She 
wondered. 


212  MRS  HARDEN 

Just  after  five  she  entered  his  house. 

"  How  is  Mr  Orwyn?  "  she  asked  the  little 
maid  who  opened  the  door. 

"  Pretty  much  as  usual,  Mum,  I  think,"  said 
the  girl.  '  'E  seems  rather  down  to-day  though. 
But  'e's  'ad  a  deal  to  go  through  ain't  'e?" 

"Yes,  I  know." 

'  These  is  hodd  times  for  heverybody,  Mum." 

"  Yes  indeed." 

Her  cap  was  still  on  one  side.  Mrs  Marden 
wondered  whether  that  fact  implied  a  coquettish 
tendency  in  the  girl,  or  merely  carelessness  per- 
sistently taking  one  form. 

"  Mr  Horwyn's  waiting  for  you,  Mum." 

The  medium  met  them  at  the  door  of  the 
drawing-room.  Mrs  Marden  at  once  noticed 
a  change  in  him.  The  steady  earnest  look  had 
gone  out  of  his  eyes  and  was  replaced  by  a 
brooding  anxiety  which  suggested  a  harassed 
mind.  He  was  fidgety  and  made  unusual  ges- 
tures. His  large  hands  were  continually  in 
movement.  Even  his  voice  seemed  changed,  less 
firm,  less  resonant  than  it  generally  was. 

"I  hope  you're  not  ill?"  she  said  to  him. 

"Oh  no.  Why  should  I  be  ill?  I'm  never 
ill." 

11  I'm  afraid  all  this  horrid  fuss  in  the  papers 
has  worried  you." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  213 

"  Oh  no,  not  at  all.  We  who  have  unusual 
faculties  and  powers  must  expect  to  be  mis- 
understood by  ordinary  people.  A  blind  man 
is  always  more  popular  than  a  man  who  can 
see  further  than  others  do.  I'm  not  at  all  dis- 
turbed, not  at  all.  Since  all  these  attacks  upon 
me  more  people  have  sought  me  out  than  ever 
before.  After  Larrington's  so-called  exposure 
of  me  I  had  many  telegrams  expressing  belief 
in  me.  They're  coming  in  still.  I  had  two  this 
morning.  That's  a  great  consolation." 

"  It  must  be,"  she  said  uncomfortably. 

There  was  something  in  Orwyn's  look  and 
manner  that  day  which  made  her  feel  ill  at 
ease. 

Moved  to  abruptness  by  her  discomfort  she 
said, 

"  I  went  to  see  Larrington's  performance." 

Peter  Orwyn  started,  and  made  an  odd  flut- 
tering movement  with  his  hands. 

"  Indeed!  "  he  said. 

"  Yes.     I  felt  I  must  go." 

'  Why  not?    You  had  a  perfect  right  to  go." 

"  Mr  Orwyn — I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but 
do  please  be  perfectly  frank  with  me." 

"  Frank!  What  about?  Why  shouldn't  I  be 
frank?" 

"  Mr  Larrington  of  course  couldn't  do — didn't 


214  MRS  HARDEN 

even  attempt  to  do — all  you  can,  all  you  have 
done  in  my  presence." 

Orwyn  threw  back  his  head  and  straightened 
his  body. 

"  Of  course  he  couldn't.  You  needn't  tell  me 
that,  Mrs  Marden." 

'  What  he  did  was  to  reproduce — exactly — 
all  the  manifestations  I  told  you  once  I  didn't 
care  about." 

"Exactly.    Just  so!    Just  so!" 

"Are  those  manifestations  tricks?" 

"  Mr  Larrington  is  only  a  conjurer.  He 
doesn't  pretend  to  be  anything  else  that  I'm 
aware  of.  Of  course  all  he  does  is  trickery, 
clever  trickery." 

"No — but  when  you  do  them?" 

"  Eh? " 

Orwyn  stared  hard  at  her  with  a  dull  look, 
as  if  he  didn't  understand  what  she  meant. 

Almost  desperately  she  continued, 

"  Please  don't  be  angry !  I  feel  I  must 
thoroughly  understand.  It  all  means  so  much 
to  me  now.  Are  not  certain  things  you  do 
—the  things  L/arrington  can  imitate — tricks, 
and  are  not  the  other  manifestations  what  you 
say  they  are?  I  want  you  to  tell  me.  I  think 
we  all — I  mean  most  of  us  are  a  mixture  of 
sincerity  and  insincerity.  I  daresay  I  am. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  215 

Perhaps  the  way  you  get  power  is  by  throw- 
ing those  who  sit  with  you  into  a  state  of 
conviction,  and  perhaps  you  can  only  get  them 
into  that  state  by  preparing  the  way  by  cer- 
tain startling  manifestations.  You  may  think 
that  justifies  you  in — in — I  could  understand 
if  it  were  so." 

"Really,  Mrs  Mar  den!  are  you  accusing 
me ?" 

"  No,  no.  I'm  asking  you,  begging  you 
to  be  frank  with  me." 

She  paused.     Orwyn  was  silent. 
'Why   did  you   refuse  to   sit   to-day?"   she 
suddenly  asked. 

"  I'm  not  very— I  felt  I  couldn't." 

"Why   was    that?" 

He   got   up    from    his    chair. 

"  I'm  very  sensitive  to  influences,"  he  said. 
'  There   are   bad   influences    about   to-day." 

"Bad  influences!" 

"  Hostile  to  me.  For  hours  I  have  felt 
them.  I've  been  up  all  night.  I'm  pass- 
ing through  a  black  patch." 

She  stared  at  him.  The  peculiar  sensation 
she  had  felt  when  he  spoke  to  her  through 
the  telephone  was  with  her  again,  but  now 
deepened.  It  came  to  her  from  him;  it  flowed 
into  her  out  of  him.  At  that  moment  she 


216  MRS  HARDEN 

knew  that  there  was  something  abnormal  in 
this  man,  that  he  was  not  as  most  other  men 
were.  Before  she  could  say  anything  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Orwyn  turned  towards  it,  looked  at  the  door, 
but  said  nothing. 

There  was  another  knock. 

Still   he    said    nothing. 

"  I'll  open  it,"  said  Mrs  Marden. 

Orwyn  looked  at  her  and  nodded.  She 
went  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  The  little 
maid  was  outside. 

"  There's  a  telegram  for  Mr  Orwyn,  Mum," 
she  said. 

"  Please  give  it   to  me." 

The  maid  gave  Mrs  Marden  the  telegram 
and  went  downstairs. 

"  It's  for  you,"  said  Mrs  Marden,  going 
to  the  medium. 

Orwyn  did  not  hold  out  his  hand  for  the 
telegram. 

"  I  know,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  I  know  what 
is  in  it." 

:e  But — it's   probably   another   of   those — 

"No,  it  isn't,"  he  said,  in  a  loud  angry 
voice. 

'Would  you  like  me  to  open  it?" 

Without  making  any  reply  he  turned  and 


ROBERT  HICHENS  217 

walked  to  the  window  in  the  back  wall  of  the 
room  behind  the  round  table. 

Mrs  Marden  stood  for  a  moment  holding 
the  telegram.  Then  almost  mechanically  she 
opened  it  and  read  it. 

It  was  from  the  War  Office  and  announced 
the  death  of  Captain  Orwyn  in  action. 


CHAPTER  IX 

As  Mrs  Marden  looked  at  the  telegram 
she  realised  that  Fate  had  given  Peter  Orwyn 
and  his  sincerity  or  insincerity  into  her  hands. 
It  was  within  her  power  now  to  apply  the 
test  of  which  she  had  thought  so  often.  And, 
thinking  this,  she  looked  up  from  the  tele- 
gram. Orwyn  was  standing  close  to  the  win- 
dow. One  of  his  large  hands  grasped  the 
window  ledge  firmly.  The  skin  about  his 
knuckles  was  stretched,  and  whiter  than  the 
skin  of  the  rest  of  his  hand.  His  bulky  form 
was  held  upright,  but  his  head  was  bent.  As 
Mrs  Marden  looked  at  him  she  remembered 
the  telegram  she  had  received,  which  had 
stopped  her  midway  in  her  chatter  about  the 
Alhambra  matinee,  which  had  changed  all  life 
for  her  in  a  moment.  Perhaps  feeling  her 
eyes  upon  him  Orwyn  half  turned  towards 
her  and  his  eyes  met  hers. 

"  It's  bad  news,"  she  said. 

"  I  know,"  said  Orwyn,  still  staring  at  her 
and  keeping  hold  of  the  window  ledge.  "  I've 
felt  it  coming.  That's  why  I  couldn't  go  to 
bed  last  night.  What  does  it  say? " 

Mrs   Marden   opened  her   lips   to   read   out 

218 


ROBERT  HICHENS  219 

the  telegram,  but  the  remembrance  of  the 
similar  message  to  her  a  few  months  ago  again 
surged  into  her  mind.  It  was  almost  as  if 
Time  had  rolled  back  and  she  was  once  more 
receiving  her  blow.  All  over  England  no 
doubt  such  telegrams  were  being  handed  into 
the  homes  boys  had  left  for  ever;  all  over  Eng- 
land people  who  loved  were  tearing  open  the 
sinister  envelopes  and  reading  the  end  of  their 
hopes  and  fears.  For  an  instant  she  was  over- 
whelmed by  the  horror  of  war  and  no  words 
came  to  her  lips. 

"  It's  about  my  son,  isn't  it? "  said  Orwyn. 

'  Yes,"  she  said,  with  difficulty. 

"  Is  he  wounded?  " 

"  No." 

"Is  he  dead?" 

"  Yes." 

"Ah! Was  he  killed  in  action?" 

"  Yes." 

"When  was  he  killed?" 

"  It  doesn't  say." 

She  went  nearer  to  Orwyn  holding  out  the 
telegram.  But  Orwyn  moved  away. 

"  No — I   don't  want  it,"  he  said. 

"  I'm  sorry — terribly  sorry." 

She  put  the  telegram  down  on  the  table  at 
which  she  had  so  often  sat  with  the  medium. 


220  MRS  HARDEN 

She  did  this  mechanically,  without  thinking  what 
she  was  doing,  but  when  her  fingers  touched 
the  wood  she  remembered,  and  she  looked  at 
Orwyn  sharply  with  a  piercing  scrutiny. 

"  I  said  just  now  I  was  terribly  sorry  for 
you,"  she  said  abruptly,  driven  to  speak  in 
spite  of  herself,  driven  by  the  feeling  of  the 
wood  beneath  her  finger  tips.  '  But  why  should 
I  be?  Your  boy  was  a  splendid  fellow.  But 
you  haven't  lost  him,  have  you?  You  can 
bring  him  back." 

Unconsciously  she  tapped  the  wood,  tapped 
it  loudly  several  times,  turning  her  fingers 
inwards  so  that  they  struck  it  with  the  nails. 

"  Here — here — you  can  force  him  to  come. 
You  have  brought  other  boys  back  here,  Lady 
Terrerton's  son,  and  my  Ronald.  So  you  can 
bring  your  own  boy.  Isn't  that  very  wonder- 
ful? Aren't  you  thankful  to  God  to-day  for 
the  power  he  has  put  into  you?  Doesn't  it 
draw  out  the  sting  of  Death?  Just  this  piece 
of  wood — and  you,  with  two  or  three  others 
to  create  power,  or  to  help  you  in  developing 
power,  and  the  gulf  is  bridged!  What  you 
have  done  for  others  you  will  be  able  to  do 
for  yourself  now.  What  you  have  done  for 
me  you  can  do  for  yourself.  You  have  helped 
me.  Let  me  help  you.  Promise  me  that  when 


ROBERT  HICHENS  221 

you  summon  your  own  son  I  shall  be  sitting 
beside  you." 

While  she  spoke  Orwyn  gazed  at  her  with- 
out moving  his  body.  But  his  face  moved. 
His  mouth  twitched  violently. 

Then  Orwyn  came  away  from  the  window. 
He  came  slowly  up  to  the  table,  and  stood 
there  opposite  to  Mrs  Harden,  who  was  still, 
though  she  did  not  know  it,  tapping  on  the 
wood. 

"Don't   do   that,"   he   said. 

She   frowned,   but   she  did   not   stop. 

"Don't— don't  I  tell  you!" 

"Why  not?    Why  shouldn't  I ?" 

"  It's  a  lie." 

"What  is?" 

"  I  can't  bring  him  back." 

There  was  the  sound  of  impotent  despair  in 
his  voice. 

"Why  not?     My  boy   came." 

"  No." 

'But  he  did!  He  spoke  to  me.  I  heard 
his  voice.  He  spoke  of  things  only  he  and 
I  knew." 

:<  I  tell  you  I  can't  bring  them  back," 
Orwyn  said,  almost  savagely.  '  They're  gone. 
No  one  can  call  them  back.  Harry's  gone, 
I  tell  you,  gone  where  no  one  can  reach  him." 


222  MRS  HARDEN 

Again  his  mouth  twitched,  and  he  threw  up 
his  head  with  a  convulsive  movement  that  was 
full  of  violence. 

"But   you  told   me- 

"  And  I  tell  you  now  it's  a  lie.  He  knew. 
Harry  knew — he  wrote — only  the  other  day. 
When  they've  gone  West  it's  all  over — they 
can  never  come  back." 

Both  his  hands  swept  out,  and  he  began  to 
sob  loudly,  though  there  were  no  tears  in  his 
eyes. 

"Oh  go   away!     Leave  me!"  he  muttered. 

Again  he  lifted  his  hands  almost  threaten- 
ingly. Mrs  Marden  turned  and  went  out  of 
the  room,  followed  by  the  sound  of  those  ugly, 
terrible  sobs. 

She  stumbled  down  the  narrow  stairs, 
struggled  blindly  with  the  door  handle  and 
at  last  opened  the  door.  The  sunlight  streamed 
in  upon  her  from  the  warm,  quiet  street.  A 
nurse  girl,  wheeling  a  baby  in  a  perambula- 
tor, went  by  just  as  she  came  out  upon  the 
pavement.  She  saw  the  baby's  large  light 
eyes  regarding  her  with  a  shallow  look  of  in- 
fantile observation.  The  nurse  girl  glanced 
at  her,  gave  the  perambulator  a  jerk  and  hur- 
ried on.  In  the  distance  she  heard  the  sound 
of  a  child  beginning  to  cry.  She  had  left 


ROBERT  HICHENS  223 

Orwyn's  door  wide  open,  but  she  did  not  know 
it.  Not  till  she  got  into  Kensington  High 
Street  did  she  recover  herself  sufficiently  to 
take  any  thought  for  her  appearance,  her  man- 
ner, the  way  she  was  walking. 

She  felt  at  this  moment  no  more  pity  for 
Peter  Orwyn.  She  was  incapable  of  pity  for 
anyone.  Wherever  she  looked  she  seemed  to 
see  Cecil  Hammond's  energetic  and  satirical 
face,  and  she  seemed  to  hear  his  voice  say- 
ing, "  Burnley  wouldn't  believe  .  .  .  but  you 
would!" 

After  walking  a  few  steps  along  the  High 
Street  she  turned  back  and  got  into  an  omni- 
bus at  the  corner  near  the  Church.  A  small 
boy  sat  next  to  her.  Two  old  women  were 
opposite.  The  boy  was  sucking  something, 
a  bullseye  perhaps.  He  looked  radiantly  cheer- 
ful and  pleasantly  gluttonous.  The  old  women 
were  talking  to  each  other  in  worn-out  voices 
about  bargains.  One  of  them  had  bought 
some  "  remnants "  at  Barker's  and  was  con- 
sulting the  other  about  how  it  would  be 
best  to  use  them.  Mrs  Marden  heard  her 
say, 

"  Cherry  colour  suits  me  better  than  green. 
You  remember  that  bonnet " 

The  other  remembered. 


224  MRS  HARDEN 

At  Hyde  Park  Corner  the  omnibus  stopped 
and  Mrs.  Marden  got  out.  The  small  boy 
was  sucking  another  bullseye  and  looked  at 
her  with  an  expression  which  suggested  a 
wink. 

She  walked  into  the  Park  and  sat  down  on 
a  green  chair.  The  sun  was  less  strong  now. 
Evening  was  approaching.  She  thought  of  the 
Canadian  soldier,  of  the  melancholy  clergyman, 
then  of  Miss  King.  And  suddenly  she  resolved 
to  go  to  Miss  King's  rooms.  She  had  never 
yet  seen  them,  but  she  knew  where  they  were, 
in  a  small  street  not  far  from  the  British 
Museum  in  Bloomsbury.  She  got  up,  walked 
across  the  Park  to  the  Marble  Arch  and  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  a  taxicab. 

When  she  reached  Miss  King's  number  she 
rang  the  bell. 

An  elderly  woman  opened  the  door  and  said 
that  Miss  King  had  just  come  in. 

"  Please  ask  if  she  will  see  Mrs  Marden." 

In  a  moment  Miss  King  came  to  the  door, 
looking  rather  earnestly  surprised. 

"May   I    come   in?"    said   Mrs    Marden. 

"Of   course — do!     I'll   get   you   some  tea." 

"  No,  I  don't  want  anything." 

"  But  I'm  just  going  to  have  tea  myself. 
I'm  on  the  third  floor  I'm  afraid." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  225 

"  I    don't   mind   stairs,"    said   Mrs   Harden. 

But  she  ascended  them  slowly,  surprised  at 
her  own  feebleness.  Evidently  the  shock  she 
had  received  in  Hornton  Street  had  weak- 
ened her  body  for  the  moment.  Or — had  she 
often  felt  rather  tired  of  late?  She  asked  her- 
self that  vaguely  as  she  went  up. 

'  This  is  my  little  room,"  said  Miss  King, 
opening  a  door  painted  dark  green. 

'  How  nice  and  simple  it  is ! "  said  Mrs 
Marden.  "And  what  a  quantity  of  books!" 

'  When  I  have  time  I  go  a  good  deal  to 
the  second-hand  bookshops.  You  look  tired." 

"  I  am  very  tired." 

"Sit  here   and   I'll  make   the   tea." 

She  drew  forward  a  basket  chair  with  a 
chintz  covered  cushion. 

"  I   won't   be   a   minute." 

She  went  away  through  some  folding  doors. 

"  So  Emily  and  her  belief  live  here!  "  thought 
Mrs  Marden.  "  How  wonderfully  clean  and 
neat  it  is.  But  of  course  Emily's  room  would 
be." 

The  sight  of  the  many  books  touched  her. 
She  knew  that  Miss  King  was  poor.  Very 
soon  her  friend  came  back  with  tea  and  bis- 
cuits on  a  Japanese  tray.  She  set  it  down 
on  a  round  table  of  wicker  work. 


226  MRS  HARDEN 

*  You'll  soon  feel  refreshed,"  she  said,  giv- 
irig  Mrs  Marden  a  cup. 

"I'm  afraid  not  but  I  am  glad  to  have 
it." 

After  quite   a  long   silence   she   said, 

"  Of  course  you  can  see  something  has  hap- 
pened." 
'  "Yes." 

"  It's  this — Captain  Orwyn  has  been  killed 
in  the  war." 

"Oh — poor,  poor  Mr  Orwyn!"  said  Miss 
King,  with  an  accent  of  deep,  almost  tender 
pity. 

"  I — it's  awful,  but  I  don't  feel  any  sor- 
row for  him  just  now.  I  was  with  him  when 
the  telegram  came.  I  read  it  and  told  him 
the  news.  He  made  me.  He  was  expecting 
it." 

"Why?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  I  suppose  he  isn't 
like  most  people." 

'  You   mean   he   had   a   premonition  ? " 

"  I    suppose   he   had." 

"  That   often  happens    I   believe." 

"It  didn't  to  me.  After  I  had  told  Mr 
Orwyn  I  said  to  him  that  now  he  would  be 
able  to  call  his  son  back  as  he  called  mine. 
And  then  he  said — he  said " 


ROBERT  HICHENS  227 

She  closed  her  eyes,  opened  them  and  went 
on, 

"  That  he  couldn't  do  that  because  those  who 
had  gone  West  never  returned." 

"He  told  you  that!" 

'  Yes.  He  said  it — spiritualism  was  all  lies, 
nothing  but  lies.  And  then  he  asked  me — told 
me  to  leave  him.  He  began  sobbing,  not 
crying.  I  couldn't  stay.  I  took  an  omnibus. 
Then  I  sat  in  the  Park,  and  then  I  thought 
I  would  come  here.  You  see  Mr  Hammond 
and  Larrington  were  right." 

"My  dear!"  said  Miss  King,  putting  out 
her  hand.  "My  dear!" 

"It  is  rather  terrible  to  have  been  such  a 
fool.  And  even  now  I  can't  quite  under- 
stand. But  I  couldn't  ask — he  was  sobbing." 

"Poor  man!" 

"  And  am  not  I  poor  now? " 

"  It's  all  horrible,  both  for  you  and  for 
him.  If  only  I  could  get  you  to  see " 

'  You  can't.  I  am  not  made  that  way.  I 
am  one  of  the  foolish  women  who  litter  the 
world." 

"No,   indeed!" 

'  Yes,  I  am.  We  are  no  use  to  anyone, 
except  to  those  who  make  money  out  of  our 
folly.  It  would  be  better  if  there  were  none  of 


228  MRS  HARDEN 

us  left.  We  ought  to  be  put  in  the  front 
line — like  the  Belgian  women — to  serve  as 
shields  to  the  fighting  men." 

"Don't   dear!" 

"  Emily,  I  wish  I  could  die  to-day.  I  am 
sick  of  myself.  If  I  had  done  anything!  But 
my  work  began  and  ended  with  buying  hats 
and  selling  programmes." 

'Why   not   begin   to   do    something   now?" 

"What  could  I  do?  What  can  a  fool 
do?  Besides  I  feel  so  tired  and  played 
out." 

That  will  pass.     You  have  had  a  shock." 

'  Yes.     Will  you   come  with  me  to   Hans 
Place?" 

"  Of  course  I  will." 

"  I'm  afraid  to  be  alone  to-night.  It  has 
made  me  feel  almost  ill." 

"  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  a  doctor  to- 
morrow," said  Miss  King,  with  sudden  de- 
cision. 

"  I  wish  he  would  tell  me  I  was  going  to 
die." 

"Hush!  Shall  I  put  on  my  things  now, 
or  would  you  rather  rest  here  first  ? " 

"  Let's  go,  or  I  mayn't  be  able  to  go  at 
all.  I  feel  like  a  thing  made  of  water." 

Miss  King  dressed,  packed  a  handbag,  got 


ROBERT  HICHENS  229 

a  taxi,  and  took  Mrs  Marden  back  to  Hans 
Place. 

When  they  were  there  Mrs  Marden  seemed 
so  tired  and  weak  that  Miss  King  insisted  on 
her  going  to  bed.  Mrs  Marden  gave  in  to 
her  after  a  poor  little  protest.  When  she  was 
in  bed  with  her  friend  sitting  by  her  she 
said, 

'  This  is  almost  like  a  repetition  of  the  day 
when  my  telegram  came.  I  locked  myself  in 
then.  I  went  to  bed  and  lay  awake  all  night 
trying  to  think  things  out.  But  that's  no  good. 
It  would  be  better  for  some  of  us  if  we  couldn't 
think  at  all.  But  even  then  life  was  worth 
more  to  me  than  it  is  now." 

"Why  was  that,  dear?" 

"  I  had  no  belief  then,  but  I  had  never  had 
one.  Now  I  have  believed  and  been  betrayed." 

She  sat  up  on  her  pillows,  stretching  out 
her  thin  arms  along  the  coverlet. 

"  Oh,  Emily,  how  can  Peter  Orwyn  look 
as  he  does  and  be  as  he  is?  How  can  any 
man  set  himself  to  the  tricking  of  poor  women 
and  men  who  are  yearning  for  consolation? " 

:<  I  don't  know.  But  people  are  so  strange. 
Perhaps  he  thinks  it  is  better  to  console  with 
lies  than  not  at  all." 

"But  the  money!     And  even  now  I   can't 


230  MRS  HARDEN 

understand.  I  think  he  really  has  some  strange 
powers  which  most  of  us  haven't  got.  I  have 
felt  them.  I  even  felt  them  to-day." 

"  I  think  that  too." 

"  Perhaps- 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  shone  and  she  seemed 
about  to  utter  a  torrent  of  eager  words.  But 
the  impulse  must  have  died,  for  she  fell  back 
on  the  pillows,  and  only  said, 

"No— no." 

Then,  after  a  pause,  she  added, 

"  An  end  comes  to  the  folly  of  even  the 
greatest  fool.  He  has  told  me  himself  what 
he  is." 

Later  that  night,  after  they  had  had  some 
food  together  in  Mrs  Marden's  bedroom,  Miss 
King  tried  earnestly  to  comfort  her  friend. 
She  was  wonderfully  frank  and  uncovered  the 
secrets  of  her  own  heart.  She  even  offered 
up  her  love  for  the  man  she  had  lost  as  a 
sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  friendship — by  telling 
it,  showing  what  it  had  been  what  it  still  was 
in  her  life.  The  love  of  a  typist  for  a  young 
dentist — yes,  and  the  love  of  a  girl  who  was 
true  as  steel  for  a  man  who  must  have  been 
worthy  of  it.  Mrs  Marden  walked  that  night 
on  the  bedrock  of  reality,  and  the  firmness  of 
it  seemed  very  wonderful  beneath  her  feet. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  231 

And  then,  passing  on  from  things  temporal 
to  things  eternal,  very  simply,  very  naturally 
and  without  any  self-consciousness,  Emily 
King  tried  to  tell  of  her  soul  experience.  That 
was  much  more  difficult.  For  every  woman  on 
earth  can  reveal  the  meaning  of  love  to  her 
somehow,  if  she  really  wishes  to,  but  not  every 
woman  can  tell  truly  and  clearly  the  mysteri- 
ous processes  of  the  spirit  in  connection  not 
with  a  man  but  with  God.  And  Emily  King 
was  not  a  great  mistress  of  language.  Nor 
had  she  a  powerful  intellect.  But  she  tried 
her  best,  moved  by  an  intense  desire  to  bring 
comfort  to  a  stricken  human  creature,  by  a 
supreme  longing  to  replace  Mrs  Marden's  de- 
stroyed belief  in  the  Hornton  Street  medium 
with  another  belief  which  she  held  closely  as 
her  greatest  treasure — the  belief  in  an  over- 
ruling love  which  regards  each  individual  on 
the  swarming  earth,  which  sees  the  light  at 
the  end  of  the  darkest  path,  which  knows  the 
value  of  tears,  which  allows  everything  that 
happens  for  some  mighty  reason,  which  does 
not  explain  yet,  as  an  astronomer  does  not 
explain  to  an  infant  the  movements  of  the  stars 
because  the  receptacle  is  too  small  to  contain 
the  contents  of  his  knowledge. 

She  failed  in  her  attempt,  and  she  felt  that 


232  MRS  HARDEN 

great  impotence  which  has  been  felt  by  many 
of  the  saints  and  the  mystics.  Her  vision  could 
not  be  seen  by  the  eyes  of  her  friend,  and  she 
said  to  herself,  "  It's  my  fault."  And  there 
she  was  wrong.  It  was  no  fault  of  hers.  At 
last  she  desisted.  She,  too,  felt  very  tired  and 
now  almost  confused.  Her  mind  seemed  all 
tangled  up. 

'  I'm  very  stupid  at  explaining  what  I  feel," 
she  said. 

"  No,  Emily,  it  isn't  that.  But  there  are 
things  we  can't  hand  on  to  anyone,  and  I 
think  they  are  the  most  valuable  things." 

"Do  you  think  all  I  cling  to  is  an  illusion?" 
asked  Miss  King. 

"  I  don't  know.  But  thousands  of  people 
have  died  happily  on  the  breast  of  illusion. 
I'm  certain  of  that." 

And  then  Miss  King  said  a  thing  that 
sounded  to  herself  hard  as  she  said  it. 

"  My  dear,  I  may  be  wrong  but  it  seems 
to  me  there  is  something  in  you  which  almost 
fights  to  be  unhappy." 

'  Then  it's  my  nature  and  I  can't  help  it." 

11  Perhaps  not.  Have  you  ever  heard  of  a 
poem  called  '  The  Hound  of  Heaven  '  ?  " 

'  Yes,  of  course.  But  I  have  never  read  it. 
Why  do  you  ask  ? " 


ROBERT  HICHENS  233 

But  Miss  King  did  not  say.  What  she  did 
say  was, 

"  I  think  one  of  the  most  awful  things  in 
life  is  that  we  can  do  so  little  for  other  peo- 
ple." 

Next  morning  Mrs  Marden  looked  terribly 
ill,  Miss  King  thought,  and  she  declared  her 
decision  to  make  her  friend  see  a  doctor  at 
once.  But  Mrs  Marden  refused.  Since  the 
events  of  the  previous  day  her  native  obsti- 
nacy seemed  to  have  grown  stronger,  to  have 
taken  on  something  of  almost  hard  defiance. 
Her  misery  had  progressed  to  an  almost  brutal 
stage,  and  she  did  not  trouble  to — perhaps 
she  could  not — conceal  that  from  her  friend. 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  in  body,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  certain  I  shall  live  to  be  a  very  old  woman. 
You  must  go  off  to  your  work,  Emily.  Don't 
bother  about  me  any  more.  I  don't  know  why 
I  have  afflicted  you  with  all  my  absurd  misery. 
Ronald  always  hated  what  he  called  '  pulling 
women '.  I've  done  with  all  that.  As  I've 
got  to  go  on  I  shall  find  something  to  do. 
Then  at  last  I  may  get  hold  of  some  self- 
respect." 

"  Just  now  you're  not  fit  to  do  anything." 

"  I  will  very  soon  prove  to  you  that  you're 
wrong,  Emily." 


CHAPTER  X 

MRS  MAKDEN  immediately  began  to  look  about 
for  some  war  work  to  do.  She  wished  it  to 
be  hard,  even  disagreeable,  for  something  in 
her  desired  morbidly  an  increase  of  misery. 
As  she  had  now  nothing  of  happiness  to  look 
for,  as  every  door  to  happiness  was  shut  and 
barred  against  her,  she  was  resolved  to  try 
and  lose  herself  in  its  opposite,  to  drink  the 
last  drop  of  the  cup  of  sorrow.  She  was  full 
of  the  defiance  of  the  doomed.  The  whole  ex- 
pression of  her  face  had  hardened.  Even  her 
manner  had  become  cold  and  obdurate.  Bitter- 
ness enveloped  her  like  a  garment. 

She  sought  work  and  she  found  it  in  a  hos- 
pital for  wounded  soldiers  established  in  the 
West  End  by  some  women  she  knew.  Nurs- 
ing of  course  she  was  unfitted  for.  She  knew 
nothing  about  it.  And  she  said  so  frankly. 
But  there  are  other  things  to  be  done  in  a 
hospital,  things  that  almost  anyone  can  do< 
but  that  most  people  want  not  to  do.  She  was 
set  to  wash  up  plates,  dishes,  cups  and  saucers, 
to  clean  knives  and  forks,  to  carry  up  trays, 

234 


ROBERT  HICHENS  235 

She  even  swept  floors,  dusted,  and  scrubbed.  It 
was  a  new  experience.  She  found  it  a  hard 
and  monotonous  one,  but  she  persevered. 
Sometimes,  while  she  was  doing  these  menial 
duties,  she  thought  of  her  dead  boy.  He  had 
praised  her  for  selling  programmes.  What 
would  he  have  said  to  her  now  if  he  had  been 
still  alive?  He  might,  perhaps,  have  been  almost 
shocked  to  see  his  formerly  gay,  and  once 
beautiful,  Mother  immersed  in  the  activities 
of  a  servant.  On  the  other  hand  he  might 
have  admired  her  for  unselfishness.  She  won- 
dered dully  which  it  would  have  been.  Any- 
how it  didn't  matter.  For  now  nothing  mat- 
tered. She  toiled  on.  In  the  mornings  she 
was  up  early.  In  the  evenings  she  returned 
home  late,  tired  out,  even  sometimes  exhausted. 
Then  she  generally  went  straight  to  bed.  But, 
as  she  did  not  sleep  very  well,  she  read  a  good 
deal  at  night.  Remembering  Miss  King's 
question  she  studied  "  The  Hound  of  Heaven  ". 
Her  literary  sense  made  her  know  it  was  beau- 
tiful in  its  mystic  elaboration;  but  she  dis- 
missed it  as  the  outpouring  of  a  poet  not  in 
touch  with  the  realities  of  life.  Then  she 
read  philosophy.  (Novels  no  longer  interested 
her.)  She  tried  Herbert  Spencer  and  was 
bored.  Then  she  read  "  The  Martyrdom  of 


236  MRS  HARDEN 

Man "  by  Reade.  This  interested  her,  and 
much  of  it  chimed  in  with  her  mood  of  bit- 
terness. Even  the  title  of  the  book  had  a 
vague  fascination  for  her.  For  are  not  all 
men  and  women  the  martyrs  of  life,  she 
thought?  Finally  she  got  hold  of  Haeckel's 
"The  Riddle  of  the  Universe".  This  fasci- 
nated her  by  its  definiteness,  its  outspoken  con- 
tempt for  the  follies  of  men.  She  read  the 
chapter  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul  again 
and  again  with  a  sort  of  bitter  relish.  Here  at 
least  there  was  no  folly.  Haeckel  did  not  lie 
drowsing  on  the  breast  of  illusion.  He  con- 
futed many  assertions  that  are  freely  and  loudly 
made  by  the  determined  believers  in  immor- 
tality, among  them  one  made  by  Emily  King 
long  ago  when  she  and  Mrs  Marden  had  first 
talked  rather  intimately  together.  Miss  King 
had  said  that  the  whole  human  race  had  im- 
planted in  it  an  instinct  that  there  is  another 
life  beyond  this  life.  From  Haeckel  Mrs 
Marden  learnt  that  the  dogma  of  a  personal 
immortality  is  not  an  original  idea  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  and  that  many  of  the  earliest  races 
of  men  had  no  belief  in  either  immortality  or 
in  a  God.  Such  a  belief,  therefore  had  not 
been  impbnted  in  man  but  had  been  gradu- 
ally acquired  by  man.  She  did  not  tell  Miss 


ROBERT  HICHENS  237 

King  of  her  discovery.  Even  in  her  bitter- 
ness she  had  no  desire  to  harm  the  happiness 
of  her  friend.  But  she  was  confirmed  by 
Haeckel  in  her  conviction  that  men  believed 
they  must  have  eventually  what  they  longed 
to  have,  merely  because  they  longed  to  have 
it.  And  hence,  no  doubt,  the  general  belief 
in  immortality  and  in  reunion  with  lost  loved 
ones. 

But  though  she  accepted  with  bitter  eager- 
ness so  much  of  Haeckel's  teaching,  especially 
his  "  necessity  of  emotion "  doctrine,  she  re- 
volted against  his  apparently  quite  genuine 
dislike  of  the  idea  of  personal  immortality  com- 
bined with  reunion  with  loved  ones  released 
from  the  shackles  of  the  flesh.  His  joy  in 
the  idea  of  eternal  sleep  after  a  life  vigorously 
and  thoroughly  lived  she  could  not  share.  And 
his  dissection  of  the  difficulties  of  after  rela- 
tionships in  another  world,  with  its  touches 
of  sardonic  humour,  seemed  to  sear  her  heart 
like  a  red  hot  iron.  She  knew  that  she  had 
a  horror  of  eternal  sleep,  of  ceasing  to  be;  she 
knew  that  she  still,  in  her  complete  hopelessness, 
longed  almost  desperately  to  be  reunited  with 
Ronald.  Could  Haeckel  have  ever  really  loved 
anyone?  She  couldn't  believe  it.  If  he  had  he 
could  surely  never  have  written  certain  pages. 


238  MRS  MARDEN 

It  was  torture  to  long  without  hope.  Yet  she 
would  not  have  lost  her  longing  even  if  she 
could.  She  felt  that  she  would  be  less  with- 
out it,  a  monster  instead  of  a  woman,  a 
mother. 

One  evening,  quite  unexpectedly,  Arthur 
Burnley  called  on  her.  She  had  not  seen  him 
nor  heard  from  him  since  Larrington's  ex- 
posure of  Orwyn.  And  when  he  was  shown 
in  she  was  conscious  of  a  slight  stir  of  interest 
such  as  she  had  not  felt  for  a  long  time. 

Burnley  looked  surprised  when  he  saw  her. 
His  penetrating  eyes  rested  on  her  face  with 
an  intense  scrutiny  for  a  moment. 

Then  he  said, 

"I'm  sorry.     I  did  not  know  you  were  ill." 

"But  I'm  not  ill,"  she  said. 

"  You— I'm  glad  to  hear  that." 

There  was  no  conviction  in  his  voice,  and 
he  still  looked  at  her  with  a  sort  of  pitiful  in- 
tensity. 

"  I'm  only  tired.  I'm  always  very  tired  at 
night  because  of  my  work.  I'm  really  working 
now  at  a  hospital,  scrubbing,  cleaning  up — all 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"Well,  don't  do  too  much,"  he  said. 

She  was  wondering  about  Burnley  and 
Peter  Orwyn,  wondering  whether  Burnley 


ROBERT  HICHENS  239 

knew  what  she  knew.  Since  the  day  of  Orwyn's 
confession  to  her  she  had  heard  nothing  about 
him. 

"  Isn't  it  tragic  about  Captain  Orwyn? " 
said  Burnley.  "  I  wanted  to  ask  you  whether 
you  have  heard  anything  of  our  poor  friend 
Peter." 

"No,   nothing." 

"  You  know  he's  left  London? " 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  that." 

*  That  abominable,  that  scandalous  attack 
engineered  by  Hammond,  followed  by  the  death 
of  his  son,  must  have  broken  him  up,  I  sup- 
pose. Anyhow  he's  gone.  I  can't  get  his  ad- 
dress. He  doesn't  answer  my  letters.  Have 
you  written  to  him? " 

"  No." 

Burnley  looked  surprised. 

"  I  saw  him  after  his  son's  death,"  said  Mrs 
Harden. 

"Really!  How  did  the  poor  fellow  take 
it?" 

"  I  was  with  him  when  the  telegram  from 
the  War  Office  came." 

Burnley   looked   keenly   interested. 

"  I   read   it    and   told   him   the   news." 

Burnley  kept  his  fiercely  bright  eyes  fixed 
upon  her  but  said  nothing. 


240  MRS  MARDEN 

"  He  had  been  expecting  it,  I  think.  He 
had  had  a  premonition  of  evil." 

"Ah!  He  knew!  He  would  have  known. 
Orwyn  would  certainly  have  known.  A  won- 
derful psychic  such  as  he  is." 

"  Mr  Orwyn  may  be  what  is  called  psychic," 
said  Mrs  Marden,  in  a  hard  cold  voice.  "  But 
he  is  an  impostor." 

Burnley  suddenly  reddened. 

"Mrs  Marden!  Surely  the  contemptible 
trickery  of  Larrington  hasn't  taken  you  in  ?  " 

"It  isn't  that!" 

"  Do  you  mean  then  that  Cecil  Hammond's 
abominable  materialistic  articles " 

But  she   interrupted  him. 

"  Mr  Orwyn  told  me  himself  that  the  whole 
thing — spiritualism — was  nothing  but  imposture 
— lies,  all  lies." 

"Orwyn  told  you!  Forgive  me — please. 
But  really  I  cannot  believe  it." 

"  He  told  me  he  couldn't  summon  the  dead." 

"  Summon  is  perhaps  hardly  the  word. 
But- 

"  I  said  to  him  that  he  must  be  thankful  for 
his  own  power,  because  now  he  would  be  able 
to  hold  communication  with  his  dead  son.  Then 
he  told  me  the  truth,  that  he  was  impotent,  a 


ROBERT  HICHENS  241 

sham,  a  deceiver.     He  told  me  that  those  who 
,are   dead   can   never   come   back — never." 

She  spoke  with  hard,  with  pitiless  decision. 

"So  you  see  you  and  I  have  been  fools!  " 
she  added. 

Burnley  looked  very  angry.  He  moved  his 
lips  as  if  about  to  say  something,  then  closed 
them  and  frowned.  She  could  see  that  he 
was  making  a  strong  effort  to  contain  his  in- 
dignation. He  got  up,  went  to  a  table  and 
fingered  some  books  which  were  lying  there. 
One  of  them  was  Haeckel's  "  Riddle  of  the  Uni- 
verse ".  He  looked  at  it,  turned  a  page  or 
two,  then  took  it  up  and,  apparently,  read  a 
few  words. 

"  So  you've  been  reading  Haeckel? "  he  said. 

"  Yes." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

'  Yes.     It's  deeply  interesting  and  wonder- 
fully reasonable,  I  think." 

"  Reasonable!  "  he  said.  "  Well,  I  think  it's 
pernicious." 

He  shut  the  book  and  put  it  down. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  for  you,"  he  said. 

"Why?" 

'  Because   I   think — I  know  you  are  easily 
deceived." 


242  MRS  HARDEN 

"  I  have  been  certainly,  by  Mr.  Orwyn. 
But  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  deceived 
again." 

"  I  know  Peter  Orwyn  is  not  an  impostor." 

"  He  says  himself  that  he  is." 

'  You  must  have  mistaken  him.  It  is  not 
fair,  it  is  not  reasonable  to  judge  a  man  when 
he  is  stricken,  when  he  is  reeling  under  a  blow. 
He  is  not  himself  in  such  a  moment." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Such  moments  bring 
out  a  man's  real  self  in  my  opinion." 

"  Oh  no !  People  say  the  wildest  things  in 
sorrow,  in  rage.  They  are  untrue  to  them- 
selves. It's  in  calm  that  we  are  our  real  selves, 
when  we  are  in  possession  of  all  our  faculties." 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

'  Then  we  disagree.  I  am  certain  that  poor 
Orwyn  was  in  such  distress  at  the  sudden  loss 
of  his  son  that  he  disbelieved  in,  denied  his 
own  powers.  Probably  at  that  moment  he 
genuinely  felt  that  what  he  had  done  for  others 
he  might  be  powerless  to  do  for  himself.  And 
so  he  condemned  himself,  said  far  more  than  was 
true.  I  think  that  is  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world.  It  would  take  much  more  than 
that  to  shake  my  faith  in  him." 

"  Do  you  know  what  Cecil  Hammond  once 
said  to  me  about  you? " 


ROBERT  HICHENS  243 

"Hammond!  no!  What  did  he  say?  How 
could  I  know?" 

"  Of  course  you  couldn't.     It  was  foolish  of 

>5 

me 

"Tell   me,    please." 

She  hesitated,  but  the  cruelty  in  her  made 
her  go  on. 

"  He  said  to  me  once  that  if  Orwyn  were 
to  confess  himself  a  trickster  you  wouldn't  be- 
lieve it." 

-Burnley  reddened  again,  and  his  curious  eyes 
seemed  for  a  moment  to  dart  fire  at  her. 

"  I — I  have  the  greatest  contempt  for  Ham- 
mond," he  said,  in  a  low  angry  voice.  "  A 
man  who  is  in  the  hands  of  a  common  conjurer! 
I  am  sorry  you  can  be  influenced  by  such  a 
materialistic  fellow." 

"  I  am  not  influenced.  But  I  am  influenced 
by  truth,  by  facts." 

"  Oh,  Mrs  Marden,  believe  me  you  don't 
know  what  truth  is!" 

'  Which  of  us  does,  I  wonder? " 

He  stood  still  for  a  moment  more  by  the 
table.  Then  he  said,  in  a  forced  voice, 

'  Well,  I  must  be  going.  I  hoped — I  am 
very  sorry  about  this.  Please  forgive  me  if  I 
have  shown  any  anger,  if  I  have  been  dis- 
courteous. I  feel  very  deeply  about  some  things. 


244  MRS  HARDEN 

I — I  once  lost  by  death  a  girl  I  was  very  fond 
of.  Peter  Orwyn  has  helped  me  more  than  I 
can  say.  He  has  helped  me  to  face  life  with 
hope.  That  is  the  explanation  of  anything 
that  may  seem  strange  to  you  in  me.  I  shall 
try  to  seek  him  out.  And  I  am  quite  sure  I 
shall  find  I  was  right  about  him.  If  I  do— 

But   she   interrupted   him. 

"I  know  Mr  Orwyn  now,"  she  said.  "  I 
pity  him,  but  nothing  would  ever  make  me  be- 
lieve in  him  again." 

They  said  good-bye  to  each  other  like  stran- 
gers. 

"Poor  Mr  Burnley!"  thought  Mrs  Mar- 
den,  when  he  had  gone,  with  a  sort  of  acid 
pity. 

And  then,  mentally,  she  dismissed  him  out 
of  her  life. 

For  a  few  days  more  she  continued  to  work 
at  the  hospital,  but  one  evening,  on  returning 
from  it,  she  felt  so  thoroughly  exhausted  that 
she  lay  down  at  once  on  the  sofa  in  her  sit- 
ting-room, shut  her  eyes  and  remained  quite  pas- 
sive. Just  then  she  seemed  to  have  come  to 
the  end  of  her  physical  powers.  She  thought 
of  the  morrow  when  again  she  would  be  due 
at  the  hospital,  and  she  knew  that  she  would 
be  unable  to  go  there.  She  would  not  have 


ROBERT  HICHENS  245 

the  strength  to  do  even  the  smallest  thing.  She 
could  not  even  wash  glasses.  Just  lately  she 
had  noticed  a  certain  symptom  which  was  not 
normal,  which  proved  to  her  that  there  was 
something  physically  wrong  with  her.  As  she 
was  afraid  of  idleness,  which  meant  in  her  case 
a  greater  loneliness,  she  decided  that  she  would 
see  a  doctor,  and  on  the  following  morning 
she  telephoned  to  say  she  could  not  go  to  the 
hospital  and  sent  for  a  general  practitioner 
whom  she  knew. 

He  came,  asked  her  a  good  many  questions, 
made  an  examination,  and  then  said, 

;<  I  think  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  go 
to  Doctor  Layton  of  Harley  Street." 

"  But  surely  you  can  prescribe  for  me.  I 
am  quite  ready  to  follow  your  advice." 

"  I  don't  feel  quite  sure  about  your  case. 
I  should  like  to  hear  another  opinion." 

"  But  who  is  Doctor  Layton?  I've  never 
heard  of  him." 

The  doctor  raised   his  eyebrows. 

'  That  shows  how  narrow  the  fame  of  some 
of  our  most  brilliant  men  is.  Layton  is  a 
great  man." 

"  Is  he  a  specialist?  " 

"  Yes." 

"What  for?" 


246  MRS  MARDEN 

"  Oh — well,  I  think  he  is  the  best  man  for 
you.  Now  do  take  my  advice  and  consult 
him.  Let  me  make  an  appointment  for  you. 
I  am  sure  he  will  be  able  to  clear  up  any 
doubts  about  vour  condition." 

w 

"  But  I  am  not  in  pain.  I  have  only  been 
losing  weight,  and 

"  Exactly !  We  must  try  to  stop  you  from 
that.  Well  now  I'll  make  an  appointment  and 
let  you  know.  Meanwhile  keep  perfectly 
quiet.  Don't  do  anything  at  all.  1*11  telephone 
to  you  sometime  to-day." 

He    got    up,    smiling. 

'  Layton's  a  splendid  man.  You  will  like 
him." 

"  I   don't  want  to   see  him." 

'  You  really  must  see  him,"  said  the  doctor, 
with  quiet  authority. 

Mrs  Marden  said  nothing  more.  She  felt 
too  tired  to  resist  his  will. 

Later  in  the  day  he  telephoned  to  say  he 
had  made  an  appointment  for  her  with  Doc- 
tor Layton  at  one  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning,  and  gave  his  address.  He  added  that 
Layton  was  giving  up  his  luncheon  hour  for 
her,  and  asked  her  to  be  very  punctual. 

Mrs  Marden  went  to  Harley  Street.  She 
did  not  feel  nervous,  though  she  rea  sed  that 


ROBERT  HICHENS  247 

her  doctor  must  have  taken  a  serious  view 
of  her  condition.  But,  as  she  felt  no  pain,  she 
didn't  believe  that  she  could  be  so  ill  as  he 
seemed  to  think.  Probably,  as  he  evidently 
didn't  know  exactly  what  was  the  matter,  as 
he  was  puzzled,  he  imagined  things  might  be 
worse  with  her  than  she  believed  them  to  be. 
And  she  knew,  as  he  did  not  know,  all  the 
mental  misery  which  she  had  been  enduring, 
and  which  must  naturally  have  pulled  her  down. 

Dr  Layton's  house  was  very  large.  When 
she  entered  it  she  saw  many  doors.  It  seemed 
almost  like  a  rabbit  warren.  When  she  gave 
her  name,  the  man  servant  looked  into  a  big 
book  of  appointments,  and  said, 

'  Yes,  Ma'am,  I  see  you  are  down  for  one 
o'clock.  But  I'm  afraid  you  will  have  to  wait 
a  little." 

"That  doesn't  matter." 

He  looked  doubtful  for  a  moment,  then  pre- 
ceded her  down  a  passage  and  opened  a  door. 
She  saw  a  small  room  with  a  couch  on  which 
an  elderly  woman  was  lying  stretched  out  flat 
on  her  back. 

"Oh!"  said  the  man  servant,  quickly  shut- 
ting the  door.  '  This  way,  Madam!  That 
room  is  occupied." 

He  opened  another  door,  then  shut  it  again. 


248  MRS  HARDEN 

Finally  he  showed  Mrs  Marden  into  a  long, 
narrow  room,  containing  a  sofa,  a  high,  adjust- 
able couch  for  medical  examinations,  and  two 
or  three  chairs.  On  a  small  table  lay  a  few 
papers  and  magazines.  Some  etchings  hung  on 
the  white  papered  walls.  He  handed  her  the 
current  number  of  '  The  Tatler "  and  left 
her. 

She  sat  down  and  opened  "  The  Tatler " 
and  began  to  read  "  The  Letters  of  Eve  ".  The 
style  in  which  Eve  wrote  disgusted  her  at  that 
moment,  and  the  matter  of  that  week's  letter 
made  her  wonder  about  women.  Did  they 
really  feel  interest  in  that  sort  of  thing?  Then 
she  remembered  her  own  past  life,  her  own 
past  interests,  the  fascination  clothes  had  had 
for  her,  her  love  of  parties,  of  race  meetings, 
of  matinees,  of  restaurants.  Often  her  own  name 
had  appeared  in  those  letters  of  Eve  and  she 
had  been  pleased  to  see  it  there.  She  had  no 
right  to  condemn  such  frivolous  gossip,  to  sit 
in  judgment  on  those  who  still  cared  for  the 
life  that  meant  nothing  to  her  now.  She  turned 
the  pages  and  saw  photographs  of  dancers  in 
gardens,  of  women  and  men  snapshotted  in  the 
Park,  looking  ridiculous  with  outstretched  legs 
and  hanging  arms,  of  small  children  selfcon- 
sciously leaning  against  handsome  self-conscious^ 


ROBERT  HICHENS  249 

mothers,  of  girls  making  large  eyes  and  finger- 
ing ropes  of  pearls. 

And  that  was  life!  She  had  been  photo- 
graphed with  her  rope  of  pearls.  Who  hadn't? 
She  shut  up  the  record  of  contemporary  exist- 
ence and  sat  still  waiting.  All  round  her  no 
doubt  were  other  little  rooms  with  people  wait- 
ing in  them.  The  remembrance  of  the  middle- 
aged  woman  lying  flat  on  the  couch  came  back 
to  her.  She  had  looked  as  helpless  and  pathetic 
as  a  little  dog  does  when  it  turns  on  its  back 
and  shows  a  tooth  humbly.  What  was  the 
matter  with  her? 

"  And  what  is  the  matter  with  me? " 

Well  in  a  short  time  she  would  probably 
know. 

Soon  after  half  past  one  the  door  opened 
quickly  and  Doctor  Layton  came  in. 

He  was  a  small,  thick-set  man,  with  a  brown 
complexion,  energetic  brown  eyes  and  a  large 
powerful  head. 

"Mrs  Marden?"  he  said,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Yes." 

"  Sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting.  Doctor 
Simpson  has  told  me  about  you." 

He  had  taken  her  hand.  Now  he  sat  down 
beside  her  and  began  to  talk.  But  to  her 
surprise  he  did  not  ask  her  questions.  He 


250  MRS  MARDEN 

talked  about  the  war,  labour  difficulties  and 
matters  of  the  day,  as  if  he  had  unlimited  time 
at  his  disposal.  Now  and  then  he  looked  at 
her  in  a  casual  sort  of  way.  Presently  he  said, 

"  I  believe  you  have  been  doing  war  work." 

"  Just  lately  I  have.  It  seems  to  have 
rather  tired  me  out." 

"  I  get  a  good  many  patients  who  tell  me 
the  same  story.  Well — now  then— 

And  he  became  the  doctor.  He  began  to 
ask  questions  swiftly,  and  listened  attentively 
to  her  answers.  Finally  he  said  he  must  make 
a  complete  examination.  He  sent  for  a  nurse, 
and  went  away  for  a  few  minutes  while  Mrs 
Marden  prepared  herself  for  the  examination 
with  the  nurse's  help. 

"  That  will  do,  thank  you." 

He  helped  Mrs  Marden  up  from  the  couch, 
and  while  she  was  dressing  he  left  the  room 
again,  saying, 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes." 

Before  very  long  he  returned  and  the  nurse 
went  away.  Mrs  Marden  guessed  that  in  the 
meanwhile  he  had  been  seeing  another  patient. 
He  brought  a  book  with  him,  sat  down  and 
wrote  in  it  with  a  fountain  pen.  At  last  he 
looked  up  and  met  Mrs  Mar  den's  eyes. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  251 

"  Well?  "  she  said.     "  What  is  the  verdict?  " 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  in  that  moment  she  was  sure  he  was 
reading  and  summing  up  her  character. 

"  Do  you  live  alone  ? "  he  asked. 

'  Yes.  I  had  a  son  but  he  was  killed  in  the 
war." 

'Yes — yes!"  he  muttered,  moving  his  pow- 
erful head.  "  Death  has  become  almost  a  com- 
monplace in  these  days  to  many  who  used  to 
think  of  it  very  differently.  So  many  of  the 
finest  have  gone." 

;<  I  suppose  Death  always  seems  commonplace 
to  a  doctor,"  she  said. 

"  It  doesn't  to  me  somehow." 

He  leaned  forward  towards  her  with  a 
very  gentle,  yet  very  masculine  look  in  his 
eyes. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  mince  my  words,"  he 
said.  "  I  don't  believe  in  that.  You  have  come 
to  me  alone  and  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  the 
simple  truth.  You  are  in  a  very  dangerous 
condition." 

"What  is  it?" 

Then  he  told  her. 

"  But — but  surely — but  I  have  felt  no  pain, 
only  sometimes  great  weakness." 

'  That  is  quite  natural.     And  you  have  of 


252  MRS  HARDEN 

course  been  losing  weight  rapidly  for  a  con- 
siderable time." 

'  Yes.  But  I  thought  that  was  owing  to 
all  I  had  gone  through — to  my  son's  death." 

"  No.  Your  physical  condition  was  the 
cause  of  it." 

After  an  instant  she  said, 

"What  can  be  done?" 

"  I  doubt  very  much  if  anything  can  be 
done  now.  The  malady  has  been  going  on 
for  some  time.  It  has  made  great  progress. 
I  wish  very  much  you  had  come  to  me  earlier." 

"  But  then "  she  paused. 

'  There  is  one  man  who  might  possibly  be 
able  to  do  something.  I  wish  you  to  see  him. 
His  name  is  Stanton  Jayne.  He  is  the  first 
operator  in  London — for  cases  such  as  yours. 
We  must  get  his  opinion  and  abide  by  it. 
When  could  you  see  him  ? " 

"  Now  if  you  like." 

"  I  shall  have  to  make  arrangements  with 
Jayne.  And  to-day  I  literally  have  not  a 
moment.  But  I  shall  try  to  arrange  for  him 
to  come  here  to-morrow  morning.  Could  you 
be  here  again  at  one?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  One  moment.  I'll  try  to  get  Jayne  on  the 
telephone." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  253 

Again  he  went  out  of  the  room. 

Mrs  Harden  sat  quite  still  waiting  for  his 
return.  She  felt  astounded  but  vague.  She 
was  scarcely  able  to  believe  that  Doctor  Lay- 
ton  was  right  in  his  diagnosis.  The  absence  of 
pain  made  her  almost  incredulous.  And  yet — 
his  look,  his  words,  his  whole  manner  proved 
his  absolute  certainty  that  he  could  not  be 
wrong. 

"  It's  very  strange !  "  she  thought. 

Strange — strange!  The  word  clung  to  her 
mind.  She  applied  it  to  herself  and  to  life. 

"  I  am  strange— life  is  strange." 

She  looked  about  the  room,  thought  again 
of  the  middle-aged  woman  lying  flat  on  the 
couch,  thought  of  Ronald,  Orwyn,  Miss  King, 
the  table  in  Hornton  Street. 

"  And  I  shall  be  among  them  perhaps  al- 
most directly,"  she  thought.  "  Among  those 
whom  people  try  to  summon  by  sitting  in  the 
darkness  at  tables !  " 

Doctor  Layton  came  back. 

:<  I've  got  on  to  Jayne.  He  will  be  here  to 
see  you  at  one  o'clock  to-morrow." 

Mrs  Marden  stood  up. 

"I  will  come  then.  Please,  what  do  I  owe 
you? " 

"  Three  guineas,  please." 


254  MRS  MARDEN 

She  took  out  the  money  and  put  it  in  his 
hand.  And  she  thought  that  action,  too,  was 
strange.  At  that  moment  she  seemed  to  be 
paying  at  the  turnstile  for  Death. 

"  Keep  up  your  heart,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a 
much  less  professional  voice.  '  There  may  be 
a  chance." 

"I  wonder!"  she  said.  "Still,  I  suppose 
it  is  worth  trying." 

"  Certainly  it  is,  or  I  should  not  advise  it." 

"  Thank  you." 

As  she  was  about  to  part  from  him  some- 
thing irresistible  moved  her  to  say  to  him, 

"Doctor  Layton,  tell  me  something;  do  you 
believe  that  there  is  any  life  after  this  ? " 

"  I  used  to  when  I  was  a  young  man." 

"And  now?" 

"  Now  I  doubt  very  much  if  there  is.  Still 
I  may  have  got  away  from  the  truth  as  I  have 
gone  on.  Science  seems  to  me  to  deny  that 
there  is  any  other  life  for  us  but  this.  But 
there  is  something  in  many  human  beings 
which  seems  to  give  science  the  lie.  Many 
dying  people  have  puzzled  me." 

"Puzzled  you?" 

"  Yes." 

He  looked  straight  before  him,  as  if  into 
some  vast  distance. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  255 

"  Some  of  them  seem  to  see — and  perhaps 
they  do  see — what  science  seems  to  deny.  It 
may  be  so." 

"  Thank  you.  I  only  wanted  to  know  what 
you  thought.  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me 
for  asking." 

He  gripped  her  hand. 

"  Forgive  you !  We  doctors  are  supposed 
by  some  of  our  patients  to  have  pretty  hard 
hearts.  You  see  we  must  learn  to  govern  our- 
selves. Otherwise  we  could  scarcely  continue 
in  our  profession.  But  the  man  beneath  the 
doctor  often  goes  so  far  as  to  weep  a  tear 
or  two,  believe  me.  I  shall  be  keeping  you  in 
my  mind." 

"  Thank  you." 

And  that  was  all. 

During  the  rest  of  that  day  Mrs  Marden 
was  alone.  She  went  home,  sat  down  and  tried 
to  realise  thoroughly  what  had  happened.  She 
even  tried  to  feel  death  in  her.  She  thought 
of  course  about  Ronald,  and  the  desire  for 
death  which  she  had  expressed  to  Miss  King. 
Now  it  seemed  very  probable  that  that  desire 
would  soon  be  gratified.  So  that,  even  if 
Ronald  had  gone  scathless  in  the  war,  she 
and  he  would  have  been  separated  in  a  very 
short  time.  If  she  had  happened  to  be  what 


256  MRS  HARDEN 

is  called  "  a  believer  "  perhaps  now  she  would 
have  been  able  to  rejoice  in  the  thought  of 
a  speedy  reunion  with  her  boy.  She  wondered. 
Then  she  wondered  what  Miss  King  would  think 
of  the  news,  what  she  would  say  when  she 
heard  it.  She  knew  that  Miss  King  was 
fond  of  her.  She  would  leave  her  some  money, 
would  add  some  words  to  the  will  made  long 
ago.  But  that  will  left  almost  everything  she 
possessed  to  Ronald.  A  new  will  would  have 
to  be  made. 

Was  Death  in  her  really?  She  knew  that 
even  great  doctors  sometimes  made  bad  mis- 
takes. Well  she  would  be  quite  certain  to- 
morrow. She  realised  that,  even  now,  she 
did  not  feel  like  one  under  sentence  of  death. 
It  seemed  to  her  just  then  impossible  that 
she  was  going  to  die  very  soon,  that  the  house 
which  had  contained  her  so  long  was  going  to 
be  left  without  a  mistress,  that  Henriette,  Han- 
son, and  the  other  servants  would  have  to 
seek  new  service. 

Presently  Hanson  brought  in  her  tea.  She 
remembered  his  obvious  grief  at  Ronald's  death, 
and  wondered  whether  he  would  be  equally 
sorry  if  she  were  to  die.  As  he  was  about  to 
leave  the  room  she  said, 

"Hanson!" 


ROBERT  HICHENS  257 

"Yes,  Ma'am ?" 

"  Tell  me— do  you  think  I  look  ill?  " 

The  butler  looked  very  much  embarrassed. 

"  Poor  Mr  Ronald's  death  has  pulled  you 
down,  Ma'am,  I  think." 

"  No,  it  isn't  that." 

"Ma'am?" 

"  I  am  very  ill." 

"Oh,   Ma'am,    I   hope   not!" 
'  Well,  Hanson,  we  can't  live  for  ever." 

Hanson  now  looked  acutely  shocked. 

"  I'm  sure,  Ma'am,  I  hope  you  have  a  great 
many  years  before  you,"  he  said. 

After  a  pause  he  added, 
'  We    couldn't    do    without    you,     Ma'am, 
really." 

'  Would  you  be  sorry  if  I  were  to  die? " 

"  Oh,  Ma'am,  please  don't  say  such  a  thing! 
I  don't  like  to  hear  it.  You  ought  to  get  about 
more,  Ma'am,  if  I  may  say  so." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"  Go  more  among  people,  Ma'am,  as  you 
used  to.  You  were  such  a  favourite  with 
everybody." 

"  There's  not  much  in  that." 

"Ma'am?" 

'  That  will  do,   Hanson,   thank  you.     You 
needn't  say  anything  to  the  other  servants." 


258  MRS  HARDEN 

"  Oh,  Ma'am,  I  should  never  let  any  gos- 
sip about  you  pass  my  lips." 

He  left  the  room  quite  shaken.  Appar- 
ently he  was  very  human,  as  some  doctors 
were.  Class-masks  are  often  deceiving.  How 
strange  was  the  nakedness  under  the  clothes! 
Perhaps  Hanson  really  had  a  place  in  his 
heart  for  his  mistress,  for  the  mother  of  Mr 
Ronald  of  whom  he  had  been  "  very  fond  ". 

In  the  evening  of  that  day  Mrs  Marden 
played  "  patience "  successfully.  Then  she 
went  up  to  bed. 

Hitherto  she  had  felt  almost  wonderfully 
calm,  considering  what  had  happened  that  day. 
But  now,  as  she  faced  the  night,  she  was 
seized  with  panic.  The  quiet  of  the  house, 
the  knowledge  that  all  those  in  it,  except  her- 
self, were  probably  sleeping,  the  thought  of 
their  healthy  bodies,  whilst  hers  was  obscurely 
ravaged  by  an  implacable  disease,  terrified  and 
angered  her.  She  could  not  keep  still.  She 
walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room.  Waves  of 
heat  seemed  to  roll  over  her.  They  were  suc- 
ceeded by  a  sensation  of  glacial  cold.  She 
felt  hideously  alone,  isolated  absolutely  from 
every  living  creature,  and  from  God,  if  there 
were  a  God.  Passages  from  Haeckel  burned 
their  way  through  her  memory.  When  she 


ROBERT  HICHENS  259 

had  read  them  she  had  had  no  thought  of 
trying  to  learn  them  by  heart.  Yet  apparently 
her  mind  had  tenaciously  retained  them  without 
her  knowledge,  and  now  used  them  as  a  weapon 
to  torment  her. 

"  Among  thoughtful  physicians  the  convic- 
tion that  the  existence  of  the  soul  came  to  an 
end  at  death  has  been  common  for  centuries  " 
.  .  .  "It  was  the  gigantic  progress  of  bi- 
ology in  the  present  century  that  finally  de- 
stroyed the  myth "  .  .  .  "  Now,  indeed,  it 
is  rarely  that  an  informed  and  honourable 
biologist  is  found  to  defend  the  immortality 
of  the  soul"  .  .  .  "It"— i.e.  the  belief 
in  immortality — "  is  not  found  in  Buddhism, 
the  religion  that  dominates  thirty  per  cent  of 
the  entire  human  race."  '  When  we  come 
to  analyse  all  the  different  proofs  that  have 
been  urged  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul, 
we  find  that  not  a  single  one  is  consistent  with 
the  truth  we  have  learnt  in  the  last  few  dec- 
ades from  physiological  psychology  and  the 
theory  of  descent."  ..."  All — proofs  .  .  . 
are  in  a  parlous  condition;  they  are  definitely 
annulled  by  the  scientific  criticism  of  the  last 
few  decades."  .  .  . 

How  terrible  memory  is!    She  tried  to  think 
of  the  Bible,  to  remember  consoling  passages 


260  MRS  HARDEN 

from  that  greatest  of  all  books.  But  her  mind, 
obstinate  as  are  all  self-tormentors,  swerved 
away  from  it.  Again  the  waves  of  heat  rolled 
over  her,  and  almost  frantically,  she  went  to 
the  window,  roughly  pulled  back  the  silk  cur- 
tains which  concealed  it,  with  a  sharp  tug  sent 
up  the  blind,  and  leaned  out  to  breathe  in  the 
night  air. 

Hans  Place  was  deserted  except  for  a  po- 
liceman, who  was  standing  under  a  shrouded 
lamp  at  a  short  distance  away.  Mrs  Marden 
longed  to  call  out  to  him  for  help.  How 
mad  he  would  think  her!  And  perhaps  she 
was  almost  mad  at  this  moment.  She  leaned 
with  both  her  thin  arms  on  the  window  frame 
and  opened  the  front  of  her  dressing  gown. 

Presently  the  policeman  moved  slowly  away 
with  a  heavy  assured  tread,  and  was  taken  by 
the  darkness  of  the  night.  After  an  interval 
she  heard  a  faint  noise  in  the  distance.  It  grew 
rapidly  louder.  Two  not  bright  lamps  came  in 
sight.  Then  a  large  shut  motor  glided  by  just 
beneath  her  and  quickly  disappeared.  Perhaps 
people  she  knew  were  in  it,  some  of  those  among 
whom  she  was  a  "  favourite  ".  If  they  could 
see  their  favourite,  the  seller  of  souvenirs,  now! 

After  a  long  while  she  felt  cooler,  then 
presently  cold.  She  drew  in.  But  she  left  the 


ROBERT  HICHENS  261 

blind  up  and  the  curtains  drawn  back.  She 
could  not  bear  to  be  enclosed  in  a  room  with 
no  outlet  which  she  could  see.  A  room  at  night 
is  like  a  coffin  sometimes.  She  did  not  lie  down, 
but  she  stopped  walking  about  and  forced  her- 
self to  sit  down  in  an  armchair.  And  there  she 
remained  the  whole  of  the  night,  occasionally 
getting  up  for  a  moment  to  drink  a  little  cold 
water,  and  to  put  eau  de  cologne  on  her  fore- 
head and  hands.  In  the  chill  of  the  dawn  she 
got  into  bed.  As  she  lay  there  she  broke  out 
into  a  profuse  perspiration.  This  was  the  day 
when  the  final  verdict  would  be  pronounced 
upon  her.  She  writhed  with  a  terror  which 
seemed  now  almost  entirely  physical. 

"Evidently  I  am  a  coward!"  she  thought, 
with  a  sense  of  profound  humiliation.  "  I 
never  knew  that  before.  I  gave  birth  to  a 
hero,  but  I  am  a  coward." 

Well,  Ronald  would  never  know  that.  Late 
in  the  dawn,  and  without  any  warning  of 
change,  she  suddenly  fell  fast  asleep. 

When  she  awoke  she  knew  immediately  that 
she  had  to  go  to  Harley  Street  that  day  to  hear 
her  fate  from  the  lips  of  Mr  Jayne. 

She  got  through  the  morning  somehow,  look- 
ing perpetually  at  the  moving  hands  of  the 
clock  like  a  condemned  criminal.  Just  after 


262  MRS  HARDEN 

half  past  twelve — too  soon  no  doubt — she  set 
out  for  the  doctor's  house. 

When  she  got  there  she  said  to  the  man 
servant, 

"  Please  don't  show  me  into  a  wrong  room 
to-day." 

He  looked  startled  and  very  uncomfortable, 
but  he  only  said,  with  a  certain  stiffness, 
r    "  No,  Ma'am,  certainly  not." 

And  he  took  her  to  a  large  and  handsome 
waiting  room,  where  three  people  were  sitting 
uneasily.  She  sat  down  there  and  picked  up  the 
current  number  of  "  Punch  ". 

At  a  quarter  past  one — two  out  of  the  three 
people  had  left  the  room  meanwhile — the  man 
servant  came  for  her,  and  she  was  shown  into 
a  square,  rather  bright  room,  where  Doctor 
Lay  ton  was  standing  with  a  very  tall  fair  man 
of  about  thirty  six,  much  younger  than  she 
had  expected. 

"  This  is  Mr  Stanton  Jayne — Mrs  Marden," 
said  Doctor  Layton. 

"  Come  to  give  me  my  death  warrant,  I 
suppose,"  said  Mrs  Marden,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  hope  not  indeed,"  said  the  surgeon,  bend- 
ing to  her.  "  My  main  business  is  the  saving 
of  lives." 

"Well,  you  must  tell  me  whether  you  think 


ROBERT  HICHENS  263 

you  can  save  mine.  Not  that  it  really  matters 
very  much,  for  I  am  not  of  much  use  in  the 
world,  and  haven't  a  great  deal  to  live  for." 

"  Only  Hanson!  "  went  through  her  mind,  as 
she  said  this. 

"  I  hope  I  may  be  able  to  save  you  for  many 
a  long  year,"  said  the  surgeon,  gently  but 
firmly.  "  Now  let  us  see." 

A  little  later  Mrs  Marden  listened  to  the 
verdict.  Mr  Jayne  said  that  he  would  have  to 
undertake  an  exploratory  operation  before  he 
could  tell  for  certain  whether  a  larger  operation 
could  be  effective  in  eliminating  the  dreadful 
malady  she  was  suffering  from. 

'  Is  it  worth  while,  really  worth  while  for 
me  to  undergo  it?"  she  asked. 

'  Yes,  I  think  it  is.  But  I  cannot  promise 
that  any  further  operation  will  be  advisable,  or 
even  possible." 

"  And  will  it  be  very  severe? " 

"  Not  very  severe.  And  it  will  not  take 
very  long." 

'  Then  I  suppose  I  had  better  make  up  my 
mind  to  it." 

So  it  was  settled.  And  Mrs  Marden  eventu- 
ally left  the  house  still  ignorant  whether  she  was 
to  die  or  to  live. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  had  been  arranged  that  Mrs  Marden  should 
go  to  a  nursing  home  near  Cavendish  Square 
for  the  preliminary  operation  which  was  to  take 
place  three  days  later.  Doctor  Layton  had 
undertaken  to  settle  everything.  She  had  two 
more  days  of  freedom  before  her.  On  arriving 
at  her  house  she  telephoned  to  her  solicitor  ask- 
ing him  to  come  to  her  as  soon  as  possible 
to  draw  up  a  new  will.  He  came.  She  did 
not  tell  him  that  she  was  in  danger  of  death, 
but  simply  that  owing  to  the  death  of  her  son 
it  had  become  necessary  to  make  a  new  disposi- 
tion of  her  money  and  property.  He  quite 
agreed  that  she  ought  to  do  this,  and  they  went 
together  into  all  the  details. 

"  I  wish  to  sign  the  will  immediately,"  she 
said.      '  When  can  it  be  ready?  " 
"  How  soon  do  you  want  it? " 
"  Not  later  than  the  day  after  to-morrow." 
The  lawyer  looked  at  her  with  some  curiosity. 
"  One  never  knows  what  may  happen,"  she 
said  carelessly.    "  And  I  ought  to  have  thought 
of  all  this  weeks  ago." 

"  Exactly.    Yes,  yes,  I  quite  understand." 

264 


ROBERT  HICHENS  265 

But  he  went  away  still  looking  curious,  and 
with  a  manner  rather  oppressed. 

When  he  had  gone  Mrs  Harden  considered 
whether  she  should  telephone  to  her  sister.  She 
supposed  that  she  ought  to  do  so.  But  she 
dreaded  her  sister's  sorrow.  Annie  would  prob- 
ably cry,  would  begin  to  talk  about  religion, 
would  want  her  to  see  a  clergyman.  She  de- 
cided not  to  tell  Annie.  It  might  be  unsisterly, 
but  she  couldn't  help  that.  Should  she  sum- 
mon Miss  King?  She  had  not  said  a  word  to 
her  friend  yet.  Miss  King  did  not  know  she 
had  seen  any  doctor.  She  would  have  to  tell 
her;  she  would  tell  her,  but  not  now.  She 
would  wait  till  to-morrow.  But  there  was 
someone  she  wanted  to  see,  someone  she  felt  she 
must  see,  if  possible.  It  was  Peter  Orwyn. 
Arthur  Burnley  had  told  her  that  Orwyn  had 
gone  away  and  had  left  no  address.  But 
several  days  had  elapsed  since  Burnley's  visit 
to  her.  Orwyn  might  have  returned.  She  re- 
solved to  find  out,  and  she  went  to  the  telephone 
and  asked  for  his  number.  In  two  or  three 
minutes  she  was  put  through  to  Hornton  Street, 
and  heard  a  voice  say, 

"'Ello?" 

"Who  is  that?"  she  asked. 

"  Mr  Horwyn's  servant.    'Oo  his  it,  please?  " 


266  MRS  HARDEN 

"Mrs  Marden." 

«>Oo— please?" 

"Mrs  Marden." 

"Oh,  Mrs  Marding!    Yes?" 

"  Is  Mr  Orwyn  in  London? " 

"Yes,  Mum.     'E's  just  come  back." 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  him,  please,  if  he's  at 
home." 

"  I'll  tell  'im,  Mum." 

So  he  had  returned!  She  waited  with  the 
receiver  in  her  hand.  Presently  she  heard 
Orwyn's  voice  saying, 

"  Do  you  want  me,  Mrs  Marden? " 

'  Yes.     I  want  very  much  to  see  you." 

After  a  perceptible  pause  the  voice  said, 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

"  I  must  see  you.  Don't  refuse  me.  And 
I  want  you,  I  beg  you  to  come  to  me." 

"  I  am  not  very  well.  I  am  not  seeing  anyone 
at  present." 

"  I  quite  understand.  But  I  beg  you  to 
come.  I  may  not  have  a  chance  of  ever  seeing 
you  again." 

'  You  are  going  away?  " 

"  I'm  dangerously  ill." 

"  What  is  that? " 

"  I  am  very  ill,  and  I  must  speak  to  you.  I'm 
sure  you  won't  refuse  me.  I  have  to  go  to  a 


ROBERT  HICHENS  267 

nursing  home  almost  immediately  and  I  can't  go 
without  seeing  you.  Will  you  come?  " 

"  I'm  very  sorry — very  sorry!  " 

"Will  you  come?" 

"But  what  could  I  do?  I'm — I'm  quite 
broken  up.  I'm  unfit  to  be  with  anyone." 

"  No  one  will  be  here  but  myself.  Do  please 
come." 

Perhaps  he  felt  the  intensity  of  her  voice  even 
through  the  telephone,  for  he  said, 

'  Very  well.  But  I'm  afraid  I  cannot  help 
you.  I  cannot  help  anyone  really." 

"  I  beg  you  to  come." 

"  Very  well,  I  will.     But- 

"  Thank  you.     At  once?  " 

"  I  will  come  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Thank  you.  I  shall  stay  here.  I  shall  ex- 
pect you." 

There  were  no  further  words  from  Orwyn,  so 
she  put  the  receiver  up. 

An  hour  passed.  He  had  not  come.  After 
waiting  for  half  an  hour  more  she  went  again 
to  the  telephone  and  enquired  if  Peter  Orwyn 
were  in.  She  received  the  answer,  from  the 
maid,  that  he  had  just  left  his  house. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is  going?"  she 
asked. 

"  No,  Mum,  Mr  Horwyn  didn't  say." 


268  MRS  HARDEN 

Mrs  Harden  hoped  he  was  on  his  way  to  her, 
but  she  felt  no  certainty.  However  she  could 
do  nothing  more.  Again  she  sat  down  to  wait. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  always  waiting 
now.  But  probably  a  definite  end  would  be 
put  to  all  that  very  soon.  The  clumsy  business 
of  life  would  perhaps  be  over  for  her  in  a  short 
time,  possibly  within  a  few  days.  If  Orwyn 
did  not  come  to  her  now  she  resolved  that  she 
would  visit  him  on  the  morrow.  He  should  not 
escape  her.  She  must  see  him.  She  would  not 
die  without  trying  to  clear  up  certain  mysteries 
which,  since  she  had  been  with  the  doctors,  had 
hung  about  her  mind  like  veils.  Now  she  knew 
what  she  carried  within  her  she  felt  an  importu- 
nate necessity  to  get  through  to  a  little  more 
light  before  facing  the  great  darkness.  Hany 
things,  the  greatest  things,  she  could  never 
understand,  but  there  were  some  things  she 
must  try  to  understand.  And  at  this  moment 
she  knew  she  had  within  her  a  will  which  Orwyn 
would  not  be  able  to  resist  if  they  met.  She 
did  not  mean  to  ask  for  his  pity,  but  she  was 
resolved  to  be  pitiless  with  him.  She  would 
make  him  tell  her  the  truth. 

It  was  evening  when  at  last  Hanson  came 
to  tell  her  that  Hr  Orwyn  had  called  and  wished 
to  see  her. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  269 

"  Please  show  him  in,"  she  said. 

When  Orwyn  entered  she  looked  at  him  in 
astonishment.  He  was  almost  incredibly 
altered.  The  natural  red  of  his  large  face  was 
mottled  with  patches  of  sallow  white.  His 
mouth  was  drawn  down;  his  broad  body  seemed 
to  have  shrunk;  his  dark  eyes  had  lost  their 
characteristic  look  of  steady  earnestness  and 
were  now  dull,  furtive,  and  horribly  distressed; 
his  hair  was  untidy  with  an  irregular  parting 
evidently  made  by  a  shaking  hand;  his  clothes 
were  dusty,  and  between  his  not  very  clean  collar 
and  his  tie  there  was  a  gap  which  showed  his 
collar  stud.  All  the  firmness  and  calm  self- 
possession  were  gone  from  his  gait  and  manner. 
And  he  looked  much  older,  older  by  years, 
than  when  she  had  first  seen  him  in  Lady  Ter- 
rerton's  drawing-room.  As  Hanson  went  out 
and  shut  the  door  they  stood  facing  one  another 
—altered  both  of  them,  noting,  both  of  them, 
the  changes  physical  and  mental  which  their 
bodies  and  faces  showed. 

Orwyn  did  not  hold  out  his  hand  to  her  and 
she  did  not  offer  to  take  it.  He  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

'  What  is  it? "  he  asked,  in  a  heavy  voice. 

He  cleared  his  throat. 


270  MRS  MARDEN 

"  Why  did  you  want  to  see  me,  Mrs 
Harden? " 

"  Please  sit  down  and  I  will  tell  you." 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  like  a  tired  man. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  you  are  ill,"  he  said. 
"  I've  been  away.  I  didn't  know." 

"  Nobody  knows  but  you  and  the  doctors. 
My  own  sister  doesn't  know.  I've  told  no  one 
but  you." 

She  sat  down. 

"  I  want  you  to  understand  how  ill  I  am.  I 
have  a  deadly  disease.  There's  very  little  chance 
of  saving  my  life — perhaps  none  at  all.  I  shall 
know  about  that  this  week.  I  am  going  to  have 
an  operation  to  find  out." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  very  sorry,"  said  Orwyn, 
with  a  sort  of  dull  sincerity.  "  Misery  every- 
where— it's  almost  unbearable.  I  don't  know 
how  human  beings  bear  what  they  do  without 
sinking  under  it.  I  have  lost  my  Harry,  and 
now  you  are  in  mortal  trouble." 

He  paused,  seemed  to  think  for  a  moment, 
like  a  man  making  an  effort  to  gather  the  forces 
of  his  mind,  and  then  said, 

"  Why  have  you  sent  for  me  to  tell  me  this 
grievous  news?  After  what  happened  the  other 
day  I  can't  understand  it.  I  thought  I  should 
never  hear  from  you  again.  I  have  but  few 


ROBERT  HICHENS  271 

friends  and  I  know  that  now  I  cannot  number 
you  among  them." 

"  I  have  told  you  because  I  don't  think  you 
will  tell  any  untruths  to  a  probably  dying 
woman,  and  because  my  mind  is  disturbed." 

"What  about?" 

"  I'll  tell  you.  Since  my  last  visit  to  you  I've 
seen  Mr  Burnley." 

Orwyn  shifted  in  his  seat  and  looked  down 
on  the  ground. 

"  I  told  him  what  had  happened  between  me 
and  you  that  day." 

A  dull  flush  went  over  Orwyn's  mottled  face. 
He  clasped  his  large  hands  together,  then  un- 
clasped them. 

"  He  wouldn't  believe  that  what  you  had  said 
was  true.  He  said  you  spoke  under  the  in- 
fluence of  emotion,  that  you  didn't  know  what 
you  were  saying.  He  was  very  angry  with  me, 
I  think.  We  parted  like  strangers.  Since  then, 
and  since  I  have  seen  the  doctors,  I  have  felt 
that  perhaps  there  was  something  of  truth  in 
what  Mr  Burnley  said,  that  possibly  both  he 
and  I  may  have  fallen  into  exaggeration.  I 
don't  wish  to  be  a  fool,  like  so  many  women, 
but  I — I  don't  wish  to  throw  away  anything 
which  might  be  of  the  least  help  to  me  now. 
I  do  need  help — hope — terribly.  Am  I  wrong 


272  MRS  HARDEN 

in  one  thing?  I  suppose  you  have  played  tricks 
to  deceive  me.  You  must  have  told  me  lies. 
You  have  practically  acknowledged  that  your- 
self. But  have  you  not  really  some  strange 
powers  in  you  which  you  don't  understand  but 
which  you  feel,  know  of?  At  times  I  have  felt 
them,  or  seemed  to  feel  them,  so  strongly  that 
even  now,  after  your  own  confession,  I  cannot 
believe  that  you  are  just  like  other  people,  like 
Mr  Burnley,  or  myself,  or  Mr  Hammond,  or 
even  like  Larrington.  You  must  tell  me,  Mr 
Orwyn,  whether  I  am  right  or  wrong.  You 
can't  have  the  heart  to  refuse  now,  or  to  tell 
a  lie  to  a  woman  in  my  condition,  who  really 
has  nothing  to  cling  to.  But "  —suddenly  she 
spoke  with  a  sharp,  almost  fiercely  suspicious 
voice—  "  I  want  no  consoling  lies.  I  won't  ac- 
cept lies.  I  would  rather  die  hopeless  than  die 
clinging  to  nonsensical  illusions." 

She  stopped.    Then  she  said, 

"  I  pitied  Mr  Burnley,  though  I  daresay  he 
thought  I  laughed  at  him  in  my  mind.  But 
is  there  any  reason  at  all  in  his  faith  in  you? 
Have  you  any  exceptional  powers?" 

Peter  Orwyn  lifted  his  head  and  met  her 
eyes. 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

And,  as  he  said  it,  to  Mrs  Marden  his  voice 


ROBERT  HICHENS  273 

sounded  almost  as  deeply  firm,  as  quietly  as- 
sured, as  on  the  day  when  she  had  first  heard 
it. 

"You  have!     What  is  their  nature?" 

"  I  don't  understand  them  myself." 

A  spark  of  hope  was  kindled  in  Mrs  Marden's 
breast. 

"But  then — that  day — do  you  mean  you 
denied  your  own  powers?  Was  it  as  Mr  Burn- 
ley said?  Were  you  so  overwhelmed  by  the 
death  of  your  son  that  you  talked  at  random? " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No." 

Suddenly  Mrs  Marden  felt  a  dreadful  sensa- 
tion of  mortal  weakness,  as  if  vitality  sank  away 
from  her,  like  a  wave  that  recedes.  It  seemed 
almost  like  the  approach  of  death.  Orwyn,  who 
had  his  eyes  now  fixed  upon  her,  got  up,  swiftly 
for  so  heavy  a  man. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  said.    "  What  can  I  do?  " 

She  held  out  her  thin  arms  to  him. 

"  Help  me  to  the  sofa.    Put  me  lying  down." 

He  put  his  powerful  arms  round  her,  helped 
her  up  from  her  chair,  and  almost  carried  her 
to  a  sofa.  She  lay  down  on  it,  and  he  care- 
fully placed  a  cushion  under  her  head. 

"  Let  me  send  for  a  doctor,"  he  said. 

"  No— no." 


274  MRS  MARDEN 

"  Then  let  me- 

"  No.  Sit  by  me.  I  shall  be  better  in  a 
minute.  I've  never  been  like  this  before.  But 
— I've  had  to  go  through  a  good  deal — 

He  sat  down  close  beside  her.  She  lay  quite 
still  for  a  few  minutes  with  her  eyes  shut. 
Presently  she  opened  them,  and  sat  up,  push- 
ing herself  up  with  the  help  of  both  hands,  but 
keeping  her  feet  on  the  sofa. 

"Now  tell  me!"  she  said. 

"  But  you're  not  fit  to- 

c  Yes,  I  am.  I  want  to  know.  I  must 
know." 

'  What  do  you  wish  to  know? " 

"  I  wish  to  know  what  led  you  to  become  a 
medium." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  everything.  It  would  take 
too  long," 

"  Tell  me  all  you  can." 

"  It  began  with  my  going  to  a  friend,  who 
had  been  troubled  with  odd  noises  in  his  house. 
He  consulted  me  about  them.  I  was  a  minister 
then,  a  Baptist — afterwards  I  joined  the  Salva- 
tion Army." 

"  I  know.    Lady  Terrerton  told  me." 

"  He  wished  me  to  exorcise  whatever  it  was 
that  caused  the  noises.  He  was  a  superstitious 
man.  I  tried.  I  went  to  the  house  and  prayed. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  275 

But  the  noises  continued.  Then  someone  ad- 
vised my  friend  to  '  sit '  and  try  to  find  out, 
by  sitting,  who  was  in  the  house.  He  asked  me 
to  sit  with  him.  I  had  never  done  such  a  thing. 
I  knew  nothing  about  such  matters.  But  I 
consented,  and  we  sat,  with  two  other  people. 
The  very  first  time  I  sat  I  fell  into  a  trance. 
It  was  like  going  to  sleep.  I  couldn't  help  it. 
I  was  not  aware  of  doing  anything  when  I 
was  in  the  trance.  But  the  noises  in  the  house 
ceased.  To  this  day  I  don't  know  why.  After 
that,  from  time  to  time  I  sat  with  other  people. 
Sometimes  I  fell  asleep,  but  often  not.  But 
when  I  was  awake  I  felt  inclined  to  write.  They 
gave  me  paper  and  pencil.  And  I  wrote  a  lot 
of  queer  things.  Sometimes  I  answered  ques- 
tions, and  often  correctly.  Then  I  began  to 
answer  mental  questions.  People  began  to 
hear  about  me.  One  thing  led  to  another,  and 
at  last — I — I  saw  there  was  money  in  it." 

She  was  silent. 

"  I  had  the  two  boys.  I  wanted  to  do  the 
best  for  them.  I  was  a  poor  man " 

"I  understand." 

'  The  spiritualists  got  hold  of  me.  I  was 
told  I  was  a  powerful  medium.  Eventually  I 
gave  up  everything  to  follow  up  that — medium- 
ship." 


276  MRS  MARDEN 

"  And  you  took  to  trickery?  " 

"  People  wanted  it.  They  aren't  easily 
satisfied.  They  want  things  that  surprise 
them.  Truth  by  itself  doesn't  satisfy  most 
people." 

"Poor  things!" 

"  So  I  began  to  give  them  what  they  wanted." 

"  But  what  is  genuine  in  the  things  you  do? " 

"  I  don't  know  myself  what  happens  when  I 
fall  into  a  trance." 

"  Do  you  sometimes  pretend  to  be  in  a 
trance  when  you  are  not  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Have  you  with  me?  " 

'  Yes.  It  is  only  now  and  then  that  I  feel 
I  must  go  off.  Certain  people  help  me.  Others 
seem  to  hold  me  back." 

"Does  Mr  Burnley  help  you?" 

'  Yes,  very  much.  But  I  couldn't  do  certain 
things  when  Mr  Hammond  was  there." 

"  Did  my  friend,  Miss  King,  help  you  or 
hinder  you? " 

"  I  call  her  negative.  She  seemed  shut  up 
and  locked,  like  a  box  might  be.  I  could  never 
get  anything  from  her.  But  she  wasn't  quite 
like  Mr  Hammond.  He  was  antagonistic  some- 
how." 

"  Tell  me  about  the  voices  please." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  277 

"  They  come  to  me." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  I  feel  I  want  to  speak  with  different  sorts 
of  voices,  sometimes  one,  sometimes  another." 

"But  that  voice — like  my  son's?" 

"  It  came  in  my  mouth  after  a  while." 

"Not  at  first?" 

"  I  knew  your  son  was  in  the  Guards.  Lady 
Terrerton  told  me  that  before  ever  I  saw  you." 

"  Did  you  try  to  imitate  a  certain  type  of 
voice?" 

'  Well,  I've  met  a  lot  of  young  soldiers, 
Guardsmen  some  of  them.  In  the  war  a  sur- 
prising lot  of  officers  came  to  see  me." 

"  I  thought  of  that.  For  a  long  time  I 
thought  just  that,"  Mrs  Harden  said,  in  a  tired 
voice.  "  And  then,  by  degrees,  I  began  to 
feel " 

She  looked  hard  at  Orwyn.  He  answered  the 
question  in  her  eyes. 

'  You  helped  me,"  he  said.  "  After  a  bit, 
you  seemed  to  be  sending  me  the  very  voice." 

*  That's  your  power? "  she  said.  '  You 
have  a  wonderful  faculty  of  stealing  knowl- 
edge from  those  who  sit  with  you? " 

'  That's  what  I  think.  It  seems  to  come  to 
me  from  certain  people,  as  if  it  was  passed 
out  of  them  into  me." 


278  MRS  HARDEN 

"  It  comes  from  them,  not  from  the  other 
world." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Orwyn  heavily. 

"Do  you  know  what  made  me  believe?  It 
was  the  way  you  laughed  once.  It  was  exactly 
like  my  son's  laugh." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Orwyn.  "  I 
seemed  to  get  very  near  to  your  mind." 

"  My  subconscious  mind,  perhaps.*' 

"  That's  it,  in  my  belief." 

"  And  that's  how  you  seemed  to  know  things 
that  only  my  son  and  I  knew? " 

'  That  must  be  it.  I  don't  think  most  people 
have  any  idea  how  mind  can  flow  into  mind, 
as  it  were.  I  have  a  power  of  receiving  what 
most  people  can't  receive.  And  that  enables 
me  to  give  out." 

"So  it's  all  purely  natural — mysterious  but 
natural." 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  And  you  have  pretended  that  it  was  what 
people  call  supernatural? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  happens  when  I  am 
asleep." 

"  Have  you  ever  gone  into  a  real  trance 
when  I  have  been  with  you? " 

After  a  long  pause  of  hesitation  Orwyn 
answered, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  279 

"  No.  First  Hammond,  and  then  your  friend, 
Miss  King,  seemed  to  prevent  it." 

"  That's  all  I  wished  to  know.  Thank  you!  " 
she  said  quietly. 

After  a  moment  Orwyn  got  up. 

"  Shall  I  go?  "  he  asked,  standing  by  the  sofa, 
with  his  arms  hanging  down,  and  his  head  bent. 

'  Yes,  please.  But  I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing. I  want  you  to  give  it  up." 

:<  I  have  given  it  up.  After  Harry — a  little 
before  he  died — Harry  wrote  me  a  letter.  He 
wouldn't  wish — I  couldn't  do  it  now  he  might 
know." 

'*  Then  you  think  he  still  exists  somewhere? " 

"  Oh  yes.    I'm  a  believer." 

'  You  spoke  to  me  once  about  prayer." 

'  Yes.    I  pray  every  day." 

"  And  yet  you  have  been — how  strange  every- 
thing is ! " 

'  We  are  all  mixed  up  of  good  and  bad.  But 
I  shall  continue  praying." 

As  he  was  about  to  go  she  said, 

"  Forgive  me  for  asking  but  have  you  some- 
thing to  live  on? " 

"  I  have  a  little  money  put  by.  I  shall  find 
something  to  do.  I  can  work.  Harry  would 
have  been  glad  to  see  me  working  in  another 
way." 


280  MRS  HARDEN 

"Yes,"  she  said. 
Then  he  went  away. 

During  the  time  that  elapsed  before  the  opera- 
tion Mrs  Marden  felt  much  calmer  than  she 
had  expected  to  feel,  indeed  almost  tranquil. 
The  interview  with  Orwyn  had  put  an  end  to 
her  feverish  unrest.  Now  she  knew!  It  was 
much  better  so.  One  can  rest  on  knowledge,  on 
truth,  even  if  it  destroys  hope,  even  if  it  slays 
expectation.  She  thought  about  that,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  how  much  she  valued  truth 
now  that  she  was  facing  a  big  thing,  a  thing 
from  which  there  was  no  escape.  She  had  for- 
given Peter  Orwyn,  and  had  no  longer  any 
feeling  of  bitterness  towards  him.  And  she 
knew  that  he  would  keep  his  word,  that  he  would 
never  again  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  poor 
people  seeking  for  consolation  in  their  troubles. 
His  assertion  of  belief  had  impressed  her  per- 
haps more  than  she  realised.  She  was  quite  cer- 
tain he  really  believed  that  his  dead  son  prob- 
ably was  able  to  know  what  he  was  doing. 
Henceforth  he  would  live  for  Harry,  to  win 
Harry's  approval  or  at  any  rate  to  avoid 
Harry's  condemnation.  And  yet  he  had  told 
her  that  once  "  they  "  had  gone  West  they  could 
never  come  back.  It  was  odd  that  he  had  been 


ROBERT  HICHENS  281 

able  to  pray  all  through  that  career  of  his, 
that  career  of  dishonesty  and  lies,  and  no  doubt 
to  pray  with  sincerity.  But  almost  everything 
connected  with  human  beings  was  mysterious. 
Impossible  to  plumb  the  depths  of  even  the 
shallowest  man,  the  most  frivolous  woman! 

She  sent  for  her  sister.  Annie  came  and 
was  told  the  news.  She  was  shocked.  For  a 
moment  she  was  unable  to  express  her  feelings. 
Then  she  cried,  kissed  her  sister,  and — of  course 
—begged  her  to  see  a  clergyman.  But  Mrs 
Harden  gently  refused. 

"I  want  to  be  quiet,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
feel  afraid  any  more.  I  was  terrified  one  night. 
I  felt  almost  as  if  I  were  going  mad  with  terror, 
but  that  has  all  gone.  I'm  not  even  exactly 
unhappy  now." 

"I  don't  understand!" 

"Nor  do  I,  Annie!  But  a  sort  of  peace 
has  come  to  me.  I've  never  felt  anything  just 
like  it  before.  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  shall 
soon  share  my  boy's  fate.  Somehow  the  thought 
of  that  seems  to  bring  us  nearer  together." 

'  You  mean  you  feel  you  may  be  going  to 
join  him? " 

"  No ;  it  isn't  that.  But  I  may  soon  be  as 
he  is.  And  I  suppose  any  sort  of  sharing 
brings  with  it  a  feeling  of  nearness.  If  Ronald 


282  MRS  HARDEN 

had  been  blinded,  as  so  many  men  have  been  in 
the  war,  I  think  I  should  have  hated  being 
able  to  see.  Real  love  likes  to  share  even  mis- 
fortunes, I  think." 

"  Darling,  I  want  you  to  live,  but  if  that  may 
not  be,  I  hope  you  will  share  the  glory  with 
poor  Ronald." 

:<  If  you  think  Ronald  is  in  glory  how  can 
you  call  him  poor?  " 

For  a  moment  Annie  looked  rather  confused 
and  uncomfortable.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she 
murmured.  "  One  gets  into  the  habit — I  sup- 
pose— when  people  are  dead." 

"  Never  mind,  Annie." 

"And  you  really  won't  see  a  clergyman?  I 
know  one,  Father  Burch,  who  is  most  help- 
ful." 

"  No,  I  would  rather  not.  I  want  to  think 
for  myself." 

"How  strange  you  are,   dear!" 

Mrs  Marden  could  not  help  smiling.  How 
the  sense  of  humour  persists!  It  cannot  die 
even  on  the  edge  of  the  grave. 

When  Annie  had  gone  Mrs  Marden  con- 
sidered whether  she  should  let  Miss  Xing  know. 
Since  she  had  taken  up  the  work  at  the  hospital 
she  had  given  up  having  Miss  King  in  the 
mornings  to  go  through  the  letters.  They  had 


ROBERT  HICHENS  283 

met  only  as  friends.  In  a  way  she  wanted  to 
see  Emily.  She  was  very  fond  of  her;  she 
trusted  her  and  respected  her  thoroughly.  But 
she  now  felt  reluctant  to  see  her.  Solitude 
seemed  best  just  then,  seemed  almost  necessary 
to  her.  She  had  an  instinct  to  avoid  all  in- 
fluences. She  did  not  want  Miss  King  or  any- 
one to  think  for  her,  or  even  to  put  thoughts 
into  her  mind.  Eventually,  she  decided  against 
sending  for  Miss  King.  And  she  spent  her  re- 
maining time  in  Hans  Place  alone. 

Of  course  the  servants  all  knew  now.  They 
seemed  very  distressed.  Evidently  they  had 
got  to  like  her.  Henriette  cried,  but  said  she 
knew  her  mistress  would  recover  and  be  better 
than  she  had  ever  been  before.  Hanson  was 
much  upset  by  the  whole  thing,  and  showed  it 
in  a  respectful  and  unemphatic  way.  The  butler 
held  the  human  being  in  decent  control,  but  the 
human  being  was  obviously  there.  Mrs  Marden 
felt  almost  fond  of  Hanson.  She  told  him  she 
had  left  him  a  handsome  legacy  in  her  will. 
This  seemed  to  upset  him  more  than  ever,  and 
when  he  thanked  her  for  her  consideration  she 
distinctly  saw  moisture  in  his  pale  eyes. 

The  solicitor  came  with  the  will.  She  signed 
it,  and  made  him  write  in  a  short  codicil,  which 
was  also  witnessed  and  signed.  By  this  she 


284  MRS  HARDEN 

left  a  small  sum  of  money  to  Peter  Orwyn  of 
11  B  Hornton  Street,  Kensington,  W.  It  was, 
perhaps,  her  tribute  to  Harry. 

When  all  was  done  she  had  one  more  night 
in  Hans  Place. 

She  had  fancied  that  perhaps  her  feeling  of 
panic  would  return  now  that  she  was  drawing 
so  near  to  the  operation  which  would  decide 
whether  she  had,  or  had  not,  a  chance  to  live 
on.  She  had  feared  its  return.  And  when  the 
evening  fell,  and  the  summer  darkness  closed 
in,  she  sat  like  one  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  a 
guest.  But  that  dreaded  guest  did  not  come. 
She  felt  almost  oddly  simple  and  calm,  and  not 
so  lonely  as  usual.  Her  anguish  about  the  loss 
of  Ronald  was  lessened  in  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree. If  he  had  been  alive  he  would  have  been 
suffering  now.  He  had  been  tremendously  fond 
of  her,  though  he  had  seldom,  or  never,  shown 
it  in  at  all  a  sentimental  way.  His  affection  had 
rather  been  demonstrated  by  comradeship,  "  pal- 
liness  ",  by  his  readiness  to  go  about  with  her, 
to  share  his  pleasures  with  her.  She  had  never 
had  to  "  tout "  for  a  dinner  or  a  visit  to  the 
theatre  with  Ronald.  On  the  contrary  he  had 
generally  been  the  one  who  had  suggested  the 
companionship  in  pleasure  which  had  been  such 
a  bond  between  them.  It  would  have  been  hor- 


ROBERT  HICHENS  285 

rible  to  see  Ronald  in  mental  pain.  She  was 
spared  that  now. 

As  the  evening  drew  on  the  sense  of  a 
new  nearness  to  Ronald,  of  which  she  had 
spoken  to  her  sister,  increased  within  her, 
and  she  began  to  be  surprised  by  it,  to  ask  her- 
self why  she  should  feel  it  so  definitely.  Even 
when  she  had  listened  to  the  voice  in  Peter 
Orwyn's  room,  believing  that  it  was  her  son's 
voice,  she  had  not  had  a  greater  feeling  of  his 
nearness  to  her  than  she  had  this  evening;  in- 
deed, probably  because  now  she  was  quite  alone, 
there  was  something  more  intimate  in  it — she 
fancied — than  when  the  voice  had  spoken.  It 
was  almost  as  if  Ronald  were  coming  to  the 
house,  or  were  actually  in  the  house  with  her. 
She  sat  like  one  who  listens  for  a  familiar  foot- 
step; she  looked  towards  the  door  like  one  ex- 
pecting it  to  open.  Her  body  felt  very  weak 
and  tired  but  her  mind,  though  still  calm,  was 
alert. 

Presently  Henriette  came,  with  a  cautious 
tread,  to  ask  how  she  was  feeling  and  whether 
she  wanted  anything.  Mrs  Marden  said, 

"  No,  nothing,  thank  you,  Henriette." 

"  Madame  ought  to  have  had  someone  with 
her  this  evening,"  said  the  maid,  in  a  sympa- 
thetic voice. 


286  MRS  MARDEN 

Mrs  Marden  nearly  said,  :<  I  have,"  but 
checked  herself,  wondering. 

"  I  prefer  to  be  alone,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
quite  contented  as  I  am." 

"  Madame  is  very  brave!  " 

Mrs  Marden  smiled. 

'  These  things   aren't  always   so  terrible  as 
we  expect  them  to  be." 

"That  is  the  good  God!"  said  Henriette, 
who  was  a  pious  Catholic,  and  she  went  out 
looking  relieved.  She  was  certainly  a  devout 
believer.  So  was  Annie.  And  yet  both  of 
them  seemed  more  upset  than  she  was,  and 
Annie  had  called  Ronald  "  poor  "  when  speak- 
ing of  him  in  glory.  Good  Christians  were 
sometimes  rather  difficult  to  understand  thor- 
oughly. They  seemed  to  have  a  great  aversion 
for  death. 

Did  she,  or  did  she  not,  want  to  live  on?  She 
certainly  did  not  wish  to  suffer  pain,  but  did 
she  wish  to  be  saved  by  the  surgeon?  She 
scarcely  knew.  But  to-night  she  did  not  feel 
any  ardour  for  life,  or  any  keen  fear  of  death. 
And  Ronald  seemed  to  have  something  to  do 
with  that,  too.  She  could  not  share  life  with 
him  if  she  lived.  Perhaps,  if  she  were  to  be 
once  more  a  strong,  active  woman,  she  would 
again  be  tormented  by  her  loss.  It  did  not 


ROBERT  HICHENS  287 

torment  her  now.  She  looked  again  towards  the 
drawing-room  door.  She  was  very  fanciful  to- 
night. 

She  recalled  her  interview  with  Orwyn.  The 
abrupt  attack  of  physical  weakness — a  dying 
away  of  all  her  bodily  powers  it  had  seemed  for 
a  moment — which  had  prostrated  her  while  he 
was  with  her  had  been  brought  on,  she  felt  sure, 
entirely  by  the  shock  to  her  mind  he  had  given 
when  he  had  denied  the  truth  of  Arthur  Burn- 
ley's assertion.  Her  physical  malady  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that.  So  she  had  really  been 
holding  on  still,  however  weakly,  however 
vaguely,  to  hope  then.  Orwyn  had  knocked 
away  the  hope,  and  she  had  felt  "  This  is  the 
end  ".  How  was  it  that  now,  without  any  hope, 
she  felt  as  she  did?  She  could  not  understand. 
It  was  absolutely  inexplicable.  Did  she,  like 
Haeckel,  look  forward  to  eternal  sleep,  to  that 
nothingness  in  which  all  the  affections  and  de- 
sires, all  the  sorrows,  too,  of  humanity  fall  into 
dust  with  the  flesh?  It  seemed  as  if  it  must 
be  so.  Yet  she  did  not  feel  that  it  was  so.  For 
she  was  aware  of  something  like  expectation,  as 
if  there  were  still  something  for  her,  a  future  of 
some  kind.  Nothingness  did  not  seem  to  be 
near  her.  She  really  had  no  consciousness  of 
drawing  near  to  an  end. 


288  MRS  HARDEN 

At  last  she  got  up  to  go  to  bed.  She  moved 
slowly  and  feebly,  and  looked  round  the  familiar 
room  as  she  went  to  the  door;  saying  good-bye 
to  its  evening  intimacy.  She  opened  the  door 
and  switched  off  the  lights.  Then  she  went  up 
to  Ronald's  bedroom.  She  stayed  there  for  a 
few  minutes  just  looking  at  it  quite  calmly. 
Then  she  went  to  her  room.  Before  she  got  into 
bed  she  knelt  for  a  little  while  by  the  bed,  with 
her  hands  over  her  face,  not  praying  but  wait- 
ing. Nothing  seemed  to  come  to  her,  unless  it 
was  perhaps  a  greater  calmness. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  not  such  a  coward  as  I 
believed  myself  to  be,"  she  thought. 

She  was  glad  of  that.  She  knew  now  that 
she  would  behave  quite  decently — that  was  a 
favourite  word  of  Ronald's — in  the  nursing 
home.  The  nurses,  the  doctors,  would  have  no 
reason  to  be  ashamed  for  her,  or  to  wonder 
about  her.  From  somewhere  strength  and  self- 
possession  had  certainly  come  to  her.  She  knew 
she  would  sleep  that  night. 

And  she  slept  well. 

In  the  morning,  when  she  awoke,  the  feeling 
of  calm  had  not  left  her. 

When  Mrs  Marden  recovered  full  conscious- 
ness after  the  operation,  and  was  able  to  under- 


ROBERT  HICHENS  289 

stand  what  had  happened,  and  to  know  that  her 
fate  must  now  have  been  definitely  decided  by 
the  surgeon,  she  asked,  without  any  anxiety,  to 
be  told  the  truth  about  her  condition.  The 
surgeon  had  already  gone  away,  to  perform 
another  operation,  but  Doctor  Layton  was  with 
her.  He  had  also  been  away,  leaving  her  with 
another  doctor  who  helped  him  in  his  work,  but 
had  returned  to  the  home  to  explain  matters  to 
her,  and  to  see  how  she  was. 

He  sat  down  by  the  bed,  and  his  brown  eyes, 
full  of  experience,  looked  at  her  with  steady 
kindness.  There  was  a  manly  strength  in  their 
gaze  which  seemed  looking,  not  doubtfully,  for 
strength  in  her. 

The  nurse  had  left  the  room  for  a  moment. 

"Well?"  she  said. 

She  did  not  know  whether  her  voice  was 
strong  or  weak. 

"  Do  you  feel  quite  easy?"  he  asked. 

"  I  think  so.     The  sickness  has  left  me." 

"  You  mustn't  talk  much." 

"  No.     I  don't  want  to.     Just  tell  me." 

!t  It  will  not  be  necessary  to  perform  another 
operation." 

After  lying  quite  still  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
she  said, 

"  I  understand.     It  has  gone  too  far." 


290  MRS  HARDEN 

He  put  one  hand  gently  on  hers. 

"  Yes." 

"  Shall  I  be  able  to  go  home  again? " 

"  Yes,  later  on." 

'  Thank  you.  That  is  what  I  wanted  to 
know." 

"  I  don't  think  you  will  suffer  very  much." 

"I'm  glad." 

There  was  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door.  The 
nurse  had  returned. 

"  I  will  go  and  speak  to  your  sister,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  She  is  waiting  downstairs." 

"  Annie !  She  will  cry.  Tell  her  not  to. 
There  is  nothing  to  cry  about.  I  think  I  knew 
how  it  would  be." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  her  for  a  moment?  " 

"  No.  But  please  tell  her  you  don't  wish  it. 
I  want  to  be  very  quiet." 

"  I  will  tell  her." 

He  was  standing  up  by  the  bed  looking  down 
at  her.  There  seemed  to  be  a  deep  question  in 
his  eyes. 

"  It's  strange,"  she  almost  whispered.  "  When 
these  things  come  they  are  not  like  what  we 
expect  them  to  be." 

He  moved  his  head. 

"  That  is  so.    I  have  noticed  it  many  times." 

Before  he  went  out  he  said, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  291 

"  When  you  go  home  I  shall  come  to  see 
you." 

"  Annie  wants  me  to  see  a  clergyman.  But 
I  would  rather  talk  to  you." 

Then  she  closed  her  eyes.  As  he  went  out 
he  let  the  nurse  in. 

When  Mrs  Marden  went  back  to  Hans  Place 
a  nurse  accompanied  her  to  attend  upon  her 
until  the  end  came.  It  was  doubtful  how  long 
she  would  live.  Doctor  Layton  said  to  her  that 
she  might  live  for  two,  or  even  for  three  months, 
but  perhaps  not  so  long.  It  was  impossible  to 
be  certain.  The  servants  had  been  told  of  her 
condition  by  Annie.  But  Miss  King  only  knew 
as  yet  that  her  friend  had  been  ill  and  had 
undergone  a  not  very  severe  operation.  It  was 
now,  however,  obviously  necessary  to  tell  her 
the  whole  truth.  Not  to  do  so  would  be  un- 
friendly. And  on  the  day  after  her  return  home 
Mrs  Marden  wrote  to  Emily  and  asked  her  to 
come. 

When  she  arrived  Mrs  Marden  was  lying 
down  on  the  sofa  in  her  bedroom.  The  nurse 
had  gone  out  to  get  some  fresh  air.  Miss 
King  came  in  with  an  anxious  look  on  her 
face. 

" What's   the   matter?"    she    asked,    as    she 


292  MRS  HARDEN 

came  up  to  the  sofa  and  took  her  friend's  hand. 
"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  " 

"  That  I  had  taken  your  advice  and  consulted 
a  doctor?  Something  held  me  back,  but  not 
any  unfriendliness,  Emily.  I  thought  I  would 
wait  till  I  was  here,  till  I  knew  everything.  I 
had  to  tell  my  sister.  Peter  Orwyn  was  the 
only  other  person  who  knew,  except  of  course 
the  doctors.  Sit  down,  Emily." 

Miss  King  sat  down  by  the  sofa. 

"  You  told  Mr  Orwyn,  and  not  me!  " 

"  I  felt  I  must  tell  him,  because  I  wished  to 
know  exactly  what  he  was.  And  I  thought  he 
would  be  truthful  to  me  when  he  knew  my 
condition." 

"  But  are  you  very  ill?  Hasn't  the  operation 
been  successful?  " 

"  It  was  only  done  to  find  out  exactly  what 
was  the  matter,  that  is  to  find  out  how  far 
my  malady  had  gone." 

"  What  is  the  matter?  " 

Then  Mrs  Marden  told  her. 

Miss  King  looked  shocked,  horrified  even. 
She  turned  pale,  got  up,  walked  to  the  window 
and  stood  with  her  back  to  Mrs  Marden.  Mrs 
Marden  saw  her  feeling  for  something.  Then 
she  took  out  a  handkerchief  and  lifted  it  to  her 
face.  When  she  turned  round  her  eves 


ROBERT  HICHENS  293 

were  red,  and  she  looked  as  if  she  had  a 
bad  cold.  Her  boyish  look  was  gone.  She 
came  back  and  sat  down  again,  but  she  said 
nothing. 

"  Peter  Orwyn  told  me  the  truth,  Emily. 
You  were  quite  right  about  him.  He  has 
strange  powers  but — Ronald  never  came." 

Miss  King  looked  down.  Tears  ran  down  over 
her  face.  She  began  hurriedly  to  wipe  them  away. 
Mrs  Marden  felt  vaguely  surprised  at  her  grief. 
She  was  quite  unable  to  share  it. 

"  I  knew  you  were  ill,"  Miss  King  said,  "  but 
I  didn't  expect  this." 

"  Nor  did  I.  But— isn't  it  odd— I  don't  feel 
as  if  I  minded  it." 

"  Are  you  in  pain?  " 

"  No.     But  I  feel  very  weak  often." 

"  Will  it— will  it  be  long?  " 

'  The  doctor  thinks  not  very  long." 

''  I  can  scarcely  believe  it.  I  shall  miss  you 
dreadfully.  Oh,  how  selfish  we  are !  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  a  selfish  woman." 

'Yes,  I  am!  Yes,  I  am!  You  are  a  great 
deal  to  me  and  I  dread  losing  you.  Oh,  I  hope 
you  won't  suffer!  " 

"  Probably  I  shan't.  I  don't  want  to.  It's 
so  ugly." 

After  a  silence  Mrs  Marden  said, 


294  MRS  HARDEN 

"  My  sister,  Annie,  very  much  wants  me  to 
see  a  clergyman." 

Miss  King  put  away  her  handkerchief  and 
settled  her  collar  and  tie.  She  began  to  look 
boyish  again,  and  was  evidently  making  a  strong 
effort  to  control  her  grief. 

"  Has  it — all  this — made  any  difference  in 
your  outlook  on  certain  things  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  has,  a  great  difference.  But 
I  don't  want  a  clergyman.  I  feel  I  must  not 
be  interfered  with.  I  don't  seem  to  want  any- 
one's thoughts  put  into  me.  I  think  that  is  why 
I  didn't  tell  you  before.  I  didn't  want  any 
influence.  I  distrust  influence." 

"Dear,  I  shall  not  try  to  influence  you.  You 
needn't  be  afraid  of  me." 

"  I  know.    And  I  am  not  afraid  of  you  now." 

"But — what  is  the  difference?" 

'  Well,  I  feel  very  calm,  and  very  simple." 

"Only  that?" 

"  I  am  not  at  all  frightened.  And  I  feel 
much  nearer  to  Ronald.  I  can't  understand 
why." 

"Nothing  else?" 

"  I  don't  feel  a  bit  afraid  of  God,  or  as  if  I 
had  been  a  very  evil  woman,  or  as  if  I  ought  to 
prepare  especially  for  death  and  be  dreadfully 
sorry  for  things  I  have  done.  I  regret  having 


ROBERT  HICHENS  295 

been  so  useless  all  my  life  and  wish  I  had  done 
more  kindnesses  to  people  and  not  thought  so 
much  always  about  myself.  But  that's  all." 

"  But  don't  you  believe  in  the  after  life  now?  " 

"  I  could  scarcely  say  I  do.  It  wouldn't  be 
quite  true  to  say  that.  But  I  cannot  feel  as  if 
I  were  coming  entirely  to  an  end.  But  per- 
haps no  one  can." 

"  If  it  is  so,  mustn't  that  mean  something? " 

"  It  may,  I  suppose.  But  I  don't  know.  I 
fancy  we  all  have  ideas — feelings — which  are 
born  out  of  our  desires." 

'  Then  you  do  want  to  go  on  living  some- 
where else? " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  know  you  will." 

"  My  sister  thinks  poor  Ronald  is  living  in 
glory." 

"  Poor! " 

"  She  put  it  like  that.  Sometimes  good 
Christians  seem  very  much  afraid  of  death, 
much  more  than  I  am.  Would  you  like  me 
to  see  a  clergyman,  Emily? " 

Miss  King  looked  searchingly  at  her  for  a 
moment  and  then  said, 

"  No.  I  feel  your  instinct  was  right.  You 
will  find  the  way  for  yourself  with  the  help — 
I  mean  that  you  are  not  like  most  people. 


296  MRS  HARDEN 

There's  something  independent  in  you  which 
can't  lean,  which  perhaps  oughtn't  to  try  to 
lean.  I  can't  help  you,  dear,  and  I  daresay  no 
clergyman  could.  And  I  do  love  you  for  your 
sincerity.  I'm  sure  the  greatest  thing  anyone 
can  do  is  to  strive  after  absolute  sincerity.  And 
you  are  absolutely  sincere." 

"So  are  you." 

"  I  wish  to  be." 

"  I  daresay  Annie  is,  too,  in  her  way.  But 
I  think  she  has  the  sort  of  mind  which  wants 
to  be  dressed  by  other  people,  and  doesn't  trust 
its  own  taste.  You  understand  me,  but  she 
never  could.  Once  I  told  her  I  wanted  to  think 
things  out  for  myself." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  She  said,  '  How  strange  you  are,  dear.'  So 
— you  see !  " 

"  It's  much  better  to  think  them  out  for  one- 
self. But  I  hope  you  won't  resist  conviction." 

"  Perhaps  I  might  have  done  that  once,  but 
I  don't  think  I  should  now." 

"  I  only  mean  that  after  being  so  de- 
ceived  " 

"By  Peter  Orwyn?" 

'  Yes,  you  might  distrust  a  belief  even  if  you 
seemed  to  feel  it  in  you,  or — or  coming  to  you." 

:'  Emily,  I'm  quite  sure  that  if  such  a  belief 


ROBERT  HICHENS  297 

as  you  mean  ever  did  come  to  me  I  should  ac- 
cept it  without  questioning,  because  no  human 
being  would  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  There 
would  be  no  intermediary — no  Peter  Orwyn 
who  had  helped  me  to  be  convinced.  After  my 
experience  with  Mr  Orwyn  I  could  never  be 
really  helped  by  a  human  being,  because  I  dis- 
trust all  human  beings  now  in  a  way;  either 
their  good  faith,  or  if  not  that,  their  good  sense, 
or  their  brain  power,  or  their  soul  power.  If  a 
clergyman  were  to  come  to  me  I  should  feel  as 
if  he  were  another  kind  of  medium  with  another 
bag  of  tricks.  It  sounds  horrid,  I  know.  Some 
people  would  think  me  almost  blasphemous,  I 
daresay,  but  you  know  what  I  mean.  If  there 
is  a  God  who  has  any  personal  knowledge  of 
my  existence  and  my  trouble  I  want  no  inter- 
mediary to  come  between  Him  and  me.  That's 
non-Christian  of  course.  I  suppose  I  am  not  a 
Christian.  But  " — she  raised  herself  slightly  on 
the  sofa,  and  her  eyes  shone — "  I  hate  intermedi- 
aries as  much  as  some  poor  people  hate  the 
middlemen.  I  don't  want  an  intercessor.  I 
don't  want  any  paraphernalia  to  remind  me  of 
Orwyn's  rattle  and  concertina.  I'm  listening 
alone  in  a  bare  place.  Probably  I  shall  die  with- 
out hearing  any  voice.  But  I  shall  just  go  on 
listening  quite  alone  there.  And  as  I  told  you 


298  MRS  HARDEN 

I  have  a  strange  feeling — there — of  being  not 
far  from  Ronald." 

"But  then  you  do  think  he  still  has  some 
existence? " 

"  I  couldn't  say  that  even.  It  is  merely  a 
feeling  and  seems  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  mind.  It's  like  a  physical  feeling." 

'  That's  very  strange!  "  said  Miss  King. 

She  gazed  at  her  friend  with  questioning  eyes. 
But  Mrs  Marden  said, 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  explain  much  more. 
It's  almost  as  if  my  body  were  aware  of  some- 
thing that  my  mind  knew  nothing  about.  It's 
rather  like  feeling  someone  is  near  you  in  the 
dark  when  you  can  neither  hear  nor  see  him, 
and  when  you  have  no  reason  to  suppose  he 
is  near.  You  seem  to  feel  it  with  your 
skin." 

A  faint  smile  went  over  her  thin  face,  and 
she  added, 

'  That  doesn't  sound  very  spiritual  or  very 
mystic,  does  it?  But  that's  just  how  I  feel." 

"  I  have  never  felt  anything  like  that,"  said 
Miss  King,  and  then,  as  if  by  mutual  consent 
unexpressed  in  words,  the  two  friends  talked  of 
other  things. 

Miss  King  noted  with  growing  surprise  the 
genuine  calm  which  possessed  Mrs  Marden. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  299 

It  was  not  a  seraphic  calm  such  as  is  often 
represented  as  coming  to  people  not  far  from 
'death.  There  was  nothing  celestial  about  it. 
To  Miss  King  it  seemed  like  a  curiously  com- 
plete self-possession  of  the  soul,  which  made  her 
friend  somehow  almost  new  to  her,  as  if,  since 
she  had  known  she  was  ill,  she  had  somehow 
achieved  authority.  Miss  King  had  never  seen 
anything  quite  like  it  before.  And  it  struck 
her  as  exceptionally  strange  in  one  who  had  no 
definite  religion  to  cling  to,  who  had  not  even 
any  conviction  that  after  the  death  of  the  body 
life  would  persist  on  another  plane.  But  she 
did  not  express  her  surprise  to  her  friend.  By 
nature  she  was  reserved;  generally  she  found 
it  not  easy  to  tell.  It  was  still  less  easy  to  ask. 
At  first  Mrs  Marden  was  able  to  go  out  in 
a  bath-chair,  and  she  was  sometimes  drawn  into 
the  Park,  and  stayed  there  under  the  trees  for 
awhile.  It  was  fine  summer  weather  and  she 
sat  and  watched  the  people  go  by.  But  she 
made  her  chairman  avoid  the  more  fashionable 
parts  of  the  Park,  where  she  would  be  likely 
to  see  her  friends  and  acquaintances.  She  was 
not  entirely  forgotten  by  them,  and  there  were 
often  enquiries  made  for  her  in  Hans  Place. 
But  she  wished  to  be  forgotten.  She  had  no 
longing  for  company.  She,  who  had  once  lived 


300  MRS  MARDEN 

among  people  and  had  hated  to  be  alone,  now 
preferred  solitude. 

One  day,  when  she  was  sitting  in  her  chair 
under  the  trees,  Cecil  Hammond  came  in  sight. 
He  was  sauntering  along  and  slowly  approached 
her.  When  he  was  almost  close  to  her  he  sent 
her  a  casual  look.  For  a  moment  apparently 
he  did  not  recognise  her,  and  seemed  about  to 
go  on.  But  as  she  returned  his  glance  he  looked 
puzzled.  She  bowed.  He  took  off  his  hat, 
still  looking  puzzled.  Then  evidently  he  realised 
who  she  was,  and  a  momentary  expression  of 
strong  surprise  came  into  his  face.  He  stopped, 
seemed  to  hesitate,  then  came  up  to  her  chair. 

"Mrs  Marden!"  he  said. 

'  Yes,  it  is  I.  You  didn't  recognise  me  at 
first  did  you?  "  Hammond  looked  very  uncom- 
fortable. 

"  I  suppose  it  was  because  you  are  in  a 
chair." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so." 

"  I  heard  you  were  ill.  I  was  very  sorry,  but 
— but  I  hardly  thought  you  would  care  for  my 
sympathy,  and  I  was  sure  you  wouldn't  want  to 
see  me." 

'Won't  you  sit  down  for  a  minute?"  she 
said. 

"  Certainly,  with  pleasure." 


ROBERT  HICHENS  301 

He  went  to  a  little  green  seat,  brought  it 
up  to  the  side  of  her  chair,  and  sat  down. 

"  I  hope  you  are  getting  stronger,"  he  said. 

"  No,  I  shall  never  be  any  stronger,  only 
weaker.  I'm  dying,  Mr  Hammond." 

"  I  am  deeply  grieved,"  he  said. 

And  he  looked  as  if  he  really  meant  it. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"   she   said. 

'  You  were  quite  right  about  Peter  Orwyn.    He 

was  a  humbug,  poor  man,  and  he  took  me  in 

deliberately.    He  has  confessed  it  to  me.    But  I 

can't  feel  that  he  is  a  really  bad  man." 

After  a  moment  of  silence  Hammond  said, 

"  I  am  afraid  finding  out  must  have  made 
you  very  unhappy." 

"  No;  not  now.    At  first  it  did." 

:<  I  am  glad  you  have  got  over  it." 

:<  I  think  I'm  like  you.  I'm  always  glad  to 
rest  upon  truth." 

"Are  you  resting  upon  truth  now?" 

"  At  any  rate  I  don't  think  I'm  clinging  to 
lies.  You  won't  pursue  Peter  Orwyn  any  more, 
will  you? " 

"  Oh  no.  I've  quite  done  with  him.  Besides 
I  understand  he  has  given  up  all  those  prac- 
tices." 

'  Yes.    His  son  has  been  killed." 

"  Why  should  that " 


302  MRS  HARDEN 

"  He  thinks  that  now  his  son  might  know 
if  he  were  to  be  insincere,  to  go  on  tricking 
people." 

"  Oh,  is  that  the  reason? "  said  Hammond, 
with  a  strong  touch  of  sarcasm. 

'  Yes,"  she  said,  earnestly.  "  It  is  that. 
Peter  Orwyn  was  a  humbug  who  believed." 

'  That  spirits  can  come  back  to  this  earth? " 

"  No,  but  that  they  still  exist  somewhere,  and 
may  know  of  our  activities  here." 

"  That  is  possible,"  said  Hammond.  "  I 
don't  think  science  has  ever  proved  the  con- 
trary. But  then " 

He  stopped,  looking  at  her  sharply  thin  face 
and  now  sunken  eyes. 

"  I  shall  know  very  soon  how  it  all  is,"  she 
said. 

'  Yes,  you  will  know.  But  you  will  never 
come  back  to  tell  us  the  great  secret." 

At  this  moment  a  child  ran  past  them  giving 
to  the  wind  a  pink  bladder  which  she  held 
at  the  end  of  a  string.  The  bladder  floated  up 
bravely  in  the  sun,  and  the  child's  face  was 
alight  with  triumph.  As  she  ran  by  she  gave 
them  a  look  out  of  her  blue  eyes  that  was  like  a 
challenge  to  them  to  share  in  her  joy  and  to 
commend  her  for  her  capacity.  When  she  had 
gone,  running  through  the  sunlight  towards  the 


ROBERT  HICHENS  303 

flickering    shadows    of    the    trees,    Hammond 
said, 

'  That  child's  eyes  teh1  me  a  great  deal  more 
than  all  the  spiritualists  are  able  to  tell  me." 

"  What  do  they  tell  you?  "  she  asked. 
*  That  hope  lies  at  the  foundation  of  human 
existence,"  he  answered.  '  We  all  fly  our  pink 
balls.  We  all  feel,  when  they  tug  at  the  string, 
as  if  they  had  wings.  Perhaps  that's  because  we 
ourselves  have  wings.  The  man  who  sets  out  to 
destroy  false  hopes  may  have  very  real  ones 
himself." 

"  Have  you? " 

"  Oh  yes.  But  I  don't  know  that  I  could  even 
explain  them." 

"  Don't  try  to,"  she  said. 

She  held  out  her  thin  hand  to  him. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr  Hammond.  Once  I  think 
I  was  angry  with  you.  But  now  we  can  part 
friends." 

He  had  got  up.  He  took  off  his  hat  as  he 
held  her  hand. 

"Do  you  remember  what  I  once  said  to  you, 
quoting  Euripides? "  he  asked. 

'  Who  knows  if  life  be  not  death  and  death 
be  not  life?" 

"  It  may  be  so." 

"  It  may — who  knows?  " 


304  MRS  HARDEN 

He  bent  down  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  know — before,"  he  said,  as 
if  almost  startled  by  something. 

Then  he  suddenly  reddened,  looked  embar- 
rassed, dropped  her  hand,  and  said, 

"  Good-bye.    I'm  glad  to  have  seen  you." 

He  put  on  his  hat  rather  awkwardly,  and 
walked  away,  looking  slightly  self-conscious. 


CHAPTER  XII 

As  the  days  went  by  Mrs  Marden  began  to  feel 
more  definitely  the  rapid  decline  of  her  physical 
strength.  She  was  obliged  to  give  up  going  out 
in  the  bath-chair.  But  she  still  spent  a  part  of 
each  day  on  the  sofa  in  the  drawing-room  not 
far  from  an  open  window.  July  was  over  and 
the  dull  warmth  of  August  lay  over  the  City. 
But  London  was  still  very  full.  People  who 
usually  fled  at  the  end  of  the  "  season  "  were 
most  of  them  doing  war  work,  and  there  had 
been  no  "  season  "  that  year. 

The  only  visitors  Mrs  Marden  saw,  however, 
were  her  sister,  Miss  King,  her  doctor  and 
Doctor  Layton. 

Annie  came  often  and  was  increasingly  dis- 
tressed at  Mrs  Marden's  state  of  body  and  mind. 
She  simply  could  not  comprehend  how  any  well 
brought  up,  right  minded  woman,  could  draw 
near  to  the  gates  of  death  without  reaching  out 
for  the  spiritual  consolations  so  liberally  pro- 
vided by  the  Church  of  England.  Again  and 
again  she  spoke  of  dear  Father  Burch,  who  was 
"  so  understanding,  so  broadminded  ",  so  ready 
to  meet  all  doubts  in  the  way  and  slay  them! 

305 


306  MRS  HARDEN 

She  brought  with  her  books  such  as  bring  con- 
solation to  many,  books  full  of  sentiment,  hope, 
gush,  books  of  dreams,  allegories,  imaginary; 
moments  in  Heaven;  books,  too,  by  American 
authors  almost  bursting  their  covers  with 
"  cheer "  and  full  throated  optimism,  dealing 
with  the  doings  of  sunshiny  pious  beings,  who 
revelled  in  their  misfortunes,  thanked  God  that 
they  were  cripples,  and  welcomed  the  most  dia- 
bolical complaints  with  the  loud  Te  Deums 
which  are  never  heard  but  in  fiction. 

'  They  are  such  helpful  books,  dear! "  she 
would  say,  as  she  laid  them  on  her  sister's  table. 

"  Are  they  true  books?  "  Mrs  Marden  would 
answer. 

"  I  daresay  they  are.  But  we  can  hardly  ex- 
pect everything  in  a  book  to  be  founded  on  fact, 
can  we,  dear?  That  would  be  asking  too  much." 

Mrs  Marden  never  read  these  books.  Indeed 
she  read  very  little,  and  often  lay  for  hours 
quietly  with  her  eyes  wide  open,  scarcely  moving 
and  seldom  speaking. 

Miss  King  came  often  to  see  her,  and  some- 
times read  aloud  to  her.  Then  she  could  lie 
still  without  talking,  and  listen,  or  not  listen, 
as  she  pleased.  But  when  the  book  was  put 
away,  and  they  did  talk,  by  a  mutual  tacit  con- 
sent they  avoided  any  mention  of  those  problems 


ROBERT  HICHENS  307 

of  the  soul  which  they  had  often  discussed  in  the 
past.  Miss  King  believed  that  her  dying  friend 
was  still  listening  in  a  bare  place  quite  alone. 
She  often  wished  that  she  could  break  in  on  the 
loneliness,  do  something  to  make  the  bare  place 
blossom  with  flowers  and  thrill  with  the  songs 
of  birds.  The  austere  loneliness  of  her  friend, 
so  near  to  the  loneliness  of  death,  roused  in  her 
an  ache  of  longing  to  be  of  some  use,  some 
comfort.  But  she  knew  that  in  Mrs  Marden's 
peculiar  condition  of  body  and  mind  any  human 
attempt  at  consolation,  any  endeavour  to  in- 
fluence, would  be  useless,  would  even  be  secretly 
resented.  The  physical  change  in  Mrs  Marden 
seemed  to  have  given  greater  strength  to  the 
obstinacy  which  had  always  been  characteristic 
of  her.  Sometimes  Miss  King's  imagination 
visualised  her  as  a  woman  listening  with  her  ear 
to  the  ground,  and  one  hand  lifted  in  warning 
lest  any  human  voice  should  intrude  on  the 
silence  around  her. 

Mrs  Marden  had  become  fond  of  Doctor 
Layton.  He  had  a  mind  that  interested  her 
deeply,  and  she  was  able  to  be  quite  unreserved 
with  him.  The  fact  that  he  was  a  doctor,  not  a 
clergyman,  made  her  strangely  at  ease  with 
him.  He  would  never  try  to  lay  a  finger  on  her 
soul.  He,  too,  was  unreserved  with  her. 


308  MRS  HARDEN 

Science,  which  he  worshipped,  had  given  him 
much.  But  it  had  robbed  him  of  the  firm  beliefs 
of  his  youth. 

"  Science  has  a  sharp  sword,"  he  once  said  to 
Mrs  Marden.  "  And  it  isn't  afraid  to  slay." 

He  was  a  close  student  of  humanity  and  some- 
times spoke  to  her  of  the  contradictions  which 
seem  to  exist  between  what  science  implies,  and 
what  human  beings  imply,  or  seem  to  imply. 

"  Science,"  he  said,  "  often  conveys  to  me  a 
*  No '  while  human  beings  convey  to  me  a 
'  Yes '.  It  is  as  if  science  said,  '  That  cannot 
be  ',  while  human  beings  are  saying,  '  It  is.' ' 

And  he  told  her  some  curious  instances  of 
the  abrupt  changes  in  belief  which  had  been 
brought  about  in  his  experience  by  the  ap- 
proach of  death,  or  by  death. 

One  was  a  change  in  a  noted  scientific  man, 
who  had  had  one  child,  a  daughter  whom  he 
had  loved  with  intensity.  For  years  he  had 
lived  not  only  without  any  belief  in  a  future 
life,  but  openly  denying  that  there  could  be  any 
life  after  death.  He  had  indeed  been  almost 
fanatical  in  his  materialism,  and  had  published 
writings  which  had  destroyed  the  beliefs  of 
many  people.  His  daughter,  while  still  quite 
young,  had  been  run  over  by  a  motor  car,  and 
had  died  a  few  days  after  the  accident.  The 


ROBERT  HICHENS  309 

Father  had  seen  her  die.     Ever  since  then  he 
had  been  a  convinced  believer  in  an  after  life. 

"Why?"  Mrs  Marden  asked. 

"What  was.  his  reason?  It  wouldn't  have 
been  accepted  by  science,  but  it  was  enough 
for  the  scientist.  It  was  simply  the  look  in  his 
child's  eyes  when  she  was  dying." 

"  Could  you  be  convinced  by  such  a  thing? " 

"  I  might,  perhaps,  if  I  cared  as  he  did. 
Human  affection  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  the 
mysteries." 

'  Yes.  It  is  odd  that  sometimes  our  eyes 
seem  to  convey  to  people  things — messages — 
which  our  minds  know  nothing  of." 

*  Yes?  "  said  Doctor  Layton,  and  waited. 

She  was  thinking  of  Cecil  Hammond's  strange 
look  at  her,  and  strange  remark  to  her,  just  be- 
fore he  had  bidden  her  good-bye  in  the  Park. 
But  she  said  nothing  more  on  that  subject,  and 
Doctor  Layton  left  it.  He  never  persisted  in 
any  conversation  against  Mrs  Marden's  inclina- 
tion. And  that  was  partly  the  reason  of  the 
ease  which  she  always  felt  in  his  company. 

One  day,  when  she  was  lying  on  the  sofa  in 
the  drawing-room  quite  alone,  a  thrill  of  pain 
went  through  her.  It  wras  acute,  like  a  thing 
full  of  intense  life,  and  seemed  to  her  long,  as 
if  it  were  stretched  out,  as  elastic  may  be 


310  MRS  HARDEN 

stretched  by  strong  hands  till  it  almost  splits. 
She  sat  up  quickly.  Her  cheeks  flushed.  The 
blood  went  to  her  head.  She  was  rilled  with 
intense  apprehension.  But  as  abruptly  as  it 
had  come  the  pain  disappeared. 

She  felt  as  if  she  had  been  visited  by  some- 
thing terrible,  endowed  with  an  unnaturally 
vivid  life,  which  had  left  her  with  a  menacing 
backward  look  at  her  and  a  promise  to  return 
again. 

So — she  was  to  suffer  after  all!  She  was 
not  to  be  spared  the  ugly  agony  of  the  body. 

She  put  her  hand  on  the  bell,  meaning  to 
summon  the  nurse.  The  horrible  heat  often 
caused  by  pain  persisted  in  her.  She  longed 
to  escape  from  her  body,  to  burst  out  of  it  and 
to  run  away,  leaving  it  lying  there  with  its 
dreadful  inhabitant,  the  disease  which  was  ravag- 
ing it.  She  meant  to  send  for  the  doctor,  to 
ask  for  an  opiate,  for  morphia,  anything  that 
would  keep  away  pain,  or  dull  it,  smother  it. 
But  though  her  finger  remained  on  the  bell,, 
touching  it,  she  did  not  press  it  down.  Some- 
thing stopped  her  from  doing  that.  At  first 
she  did  not  know  what  it  was,  and  she  waited, 
still  thinking  that  she  was  going  to  sound  the 
bell.  Then  she  took  away  her  hand  and  lay 
back  on  the  sofa.  Something  said  to  her, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  311 

"  You  are  Ronald's  Mother.  You  are  not 
going  to  be  a  coward." 

The  thrill  of  pain  had  seemed  to  carry  a  mes- 
sage. She  felt  as  if  for  an  instant  she  had 
heard  a  voice  in  the  bare  place.  It  had  died 
away.  But  she  thought  it  would  come  again. 

She  knew  of  course  that  the  pain  had  been 
caused  by  something  which  the  disease  was  doing 
in  her  body,  that  its  seat  must  be  really  in  the 
brain.  Yet  she  could  not  rid  herself  of  the 
strange  idea  that  it  had  conveyed  a  message. 
Somehow  she  had  seemed  to  feel  God  in  it. 
The  thrill  of  it  had  been  like  an  assertion:  "  You 
belong  to  me  and  you  cannot  escape  me." 

She  lay  there  pondering,  looking  back  over 
her  past  life.  She  had  not  found  God  in  her 
happiness,  not  even  in  her  happiness  with 
Ronald.  She  had  not  found  Him  in  Church,  in 
Hornton  Street,  in  her  war  work  at  the  hospi- 
tal. She  had  not  found  Him  in  her  grief  at 
the  loss  of  her  boy.  Surely  pain,  a  mere  physical 
horror,  a  thing  wholly  of  the  body,  could  not 
bring  her  into  any  relation  with  God.  Such  an 
idea  seemed  to  her  ridiculous.  Nevertheless  she 
knew  that  the  thrust  of  pain  through  her  body 
had  been  also  like  a  thrust  of  mysterious  knowl- 
edge through  her  soul. 

The  agony  did  not  return  that  day,  and  she 


312  MRS  HARDEN 

did  not  mention  it  to  the  nurse.  But  in  the 
night  it  came  back  and  woke  her  from  sleep. 
And  this  time  it  stayed  with  her  longer.  She 
suffered  so  much  that  she  found  herself  praying 
for  strength  and  courage  to  bear  it  if  it  might 
not  be  taken  from  her.  Her  prayer  was  in- 
stinctive: at  that  moment  she  could  not  help 
praying.  And  presently  the  pain  faded 
away. 

Then  she  lay  and  wondered  about  her  prayer. 
It  had  been  absolutely  spontaneous  like  a  sud- 
den cry.  And  it  had  seemed  as  if  the  whole  of 
her  was  in  it,  all  of  herself  which  she  knew  about, 
but  also  much  else  about  which  she  had  never 
known  anything  till  now,  hidden  things,  mys- 
teries, things  that  had  slept  till  that  moment, 
and  had  wakened  when  she  woke  to  the  pain. 

The  nurse,  who  slept  in  an  adjoining  room, 
came  softly  in  perhaps  subconsciously  drawn  to 
the  sick  woman. 

"Can't  you  sleep?"  she  asked. 

"  I  have  been  asleep." 

'  You're  not  in  pain,  are  you? " 

"No;  not  now." 

"  Have  you  been  in  pain?  " 

'  Yes.    It  woke  me  up." 

The  nurse,  who  was  a  middle-aged  woman, 


ROBERT  HICHENS  313 

very  kind  and  capable,  looked  full  of  sympathy. 

"  I  felt  it  for  the  first  time  this  afternoon," 
said  Mrs  Harden. 

"Why  didn't  you  teU  me?" 

"  It  only  lasted  a  moment  then.  Were  you 
expecting  it? " 

"  Well,  sometimes  in  cases  like  this  there  is 
pain 

She  paused. 

"  Towards  the  end,  you  mean? "  said  Mrs 
Mar  den. 

'  We  never  quite  know  when  it  will  come. 
I'll  speak  to  the  doctor  about  it  to-morrow. 
There  are  ways  of  easing  it." 

1  Yes,  I  know — morphia." 

"  I  can  give  you  something  now  that  will 
help  you  to  sleep  again." 

"  No,  I'd  rather  not  have  anything.  I'm 
quite  comfortable.  You  go  back,  Nurse,  and 
sleep." 

'  But  I  can  stay  with  you." 

"  No,  Nurse.     I'm  all  right  alone." 

"I'll  leave  the  door  ajar  into  the  dressing- 
room.  Then  I  can  come  in  a  moment  if  you 
want  me." 

."  Thank  you." 

The  nurse  went  softly  away.      She  left  the 


314  MRS  HARDEN 

door  ajar,  and  from  her  bed  Mrs  Marden 
could  see  a  faint  shining  of  light.  Her  own 
room  was  in  darkness. 

Since  she  had  had  the  pain  she  had  felt  she 
was  dying.  Though  she  had  known  that  be- 
fore she  had  evidently  not  really  felt  it.  She 
was  now  like  one  who  has  been  told  of  some- 
thing and  has  believed  it,  but  has  suddenly 
had  her  knowledge  made  vivid  by  actual  sight 
of  the  thing. 

That  made  all  the  difference. 

She  now  felt  death  within  her  definitely, 
tremendously.  She  looked  at  the  faint  light 
in  the  space  between  the  door  and  the  door- 
way. In  it,  half  shutting  her  eyes,  and  con- 
sciously bringing  her  imagination  into  play, 
she  saw  many  of  the  activities  of  the  past; 
she  saw  herself  as  a  wife,  a  young  mother,  a 
widow  with  a  boy  growing  to  manhood,  a  gay, 
pleasure-loving  woman,  at  theatres,  restau- 
rants, dinners,  at  homes,  at  Newmarket  and 
Ascot,  travelling  abroad,  at  Aix,  Monte  Carlo, 
in  Egypt,  Sicily,  Rome;  then  parting  from 
Ronald  with  a  smile  when  he  went  to  France; 
later  selling  souvenirs  and  programmes  in 
crowded  theatres,  with  L/ady  Mariana  always 
near  her.  She  saw  Hanson  handing  her  a 
telegram,  Lady  Terrerton  at  St-Martin's-in- 


ROBERT  HICHENS  315 

the-Fields,  the  Canadian  soldier's  slate-coloured 
eyes.  Then  she  saw  a  round  table  in  a  nar- 
row room  and  Peter  Orwyn  and  herself  sit- 
ting at  it;  she  saw  a  concertina,  a  rattle,  a 
tambourine;  last  of  all  she  saw  the  melancholy 
clergyman  looking  down  from  a  pulpit  with 
earnest,  miserable  eyes. 

And  all  that  had  passed  with  almost  in- 
credible swiftness,  the  tale  of  her  life!  That 
could  not  be  all  surely?  She  could  not  have 
been  created,  a  woman  full  of  mysteries,  of 
capacities  which  even  now  she  had  hardly  be- 
gun to  realise,  only  for  that?  Love  could  not 
have  been  put  into  her  only  for  that?  It 
would  surely  be  too  great  an  irony  if,  after  liv- 
ing such  a  life,  she  were  to  cease  just  when 
she  was  beginning  to  understand  something  of 
all  that  she  held  within  her,  just  when  she  was 
beginning  to  recognise  her  own  possibilities, 
just  when  she  was  beginning  to  pray. 

Could  the  prayer  she  had  uttered  have  been 
forced  from  her  by  mere  terror?  Had  it  been 
only  an  instinctive  call  for  help  ?  She  wondered. 
If  a  doctor  had  been  in  the  room  she  would 
probably  have  called  out  to  him.  As  there 
had  been  no  doctor  she  had  called  out  to 
God. 

But  the  nurse  had  been  within  call. 


316  MRS  HARDEN 

Moved  by  an  imperious  need  she  began  to 
pray  again. 

She  had  not  forgotten  how,  long  ago,  her  brain 
had  utterly  rejected  the  belief  that  any  Being 
could  exist  who  was  able  to  create  multitudes 
of  worlds,  and  who  was  nevertheless  also  able 
to  pay  attention  to  a  woman  in  bed  in  Hans 
Place.  Her  brain  could  not  grasp  such  a  con- 
ception of  Deity.  But  now  something  else 
in  her,  perhaps  made  humble  by  the  assaults 
of  pain,  prayed,  and  presently  she  felt  as  if 
Ronald  knew  of  what  she  was  doing  and  ap- 
proved it.  The  sensation  she  had  had  in  church 
of  the  uselessness  of  prayer  died  away  from 
her.  She  felt  as  if  she  were  being  listened 
to. 

In  the  morning,  although  she  had  had  but 
little  sleep,  she  was  calm  and  at  ease,  though 
very  weak  and  tired. 

"  I  shan't  get  up  to-day,"  she  said  to  the 
nurse.  "  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  get  up 
again." 

The  nurse  looked  at  her  gently  and  said, 

*  You  must  do  just  as  you  feel  inclined. 
I  have  telephoned  to  the  doctor  to  come  as 
soon  as  possible." 

When  the  doctor  came,  and  was  told,  he 
spoke  of  means  of  subduing  the  agony.  Mrs 


ROBERT  HICHENS  317 

Harden  questioned  him  about  its  cause.  He 
tried  to  evade  any  definite  reply.  But  she 
insisted,  and  finally  he  satisfied  her  curiosity. 

"  Do  you  expect  the  end  to  come  soon? " 
she  asked.  "  I  wish  you  to  tell  me.  I'm  not 
afraid." 

"  I  don't  think  your  suffering  will  last  very 
long." 

After   a  pause  he   added, 

'Wouldn't  you  like  to   see  a  clergyman?" 

'  You  think  it's  time  for  me  to  have  a  visit 
from  a  soul  doctor? "  she  said,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

The  doctor — he  happened  to  be  a  good 
churchman— looked  rather  shocked. 

'  You  might  like  to  prepare "  he  be- 
gan. 

"  My  sister,  Annie,  has  been  talking  to  you, 
hasn't  she?"  Mrs  Marden  interrupted. 

"  She  just  mentioned  that  she  had  a  great 
friend- 

"Was   it   Father   Burch?" 

"  I  believe  that  was  the  name." 

"  I  don't  want  him.  I  don't  think  he 
knows  anything  more  about  God  than  I 
do." 

"  I'll  send  you  some  morphia.  The  nurse 
knows  how  and  when  to  administer  it." 


318  MRS  HARDEN 

When  he  was  about  to  leave  her  Mrs  Mar- 
den  said  to  him, 

"Are  you  afraid  to  die,  Doctor?" 

The  doctor — he  was  an  elderly,  large  man, 
with  a  dignified  imposing  manner,  and  an  ac- 
commodating smile — looked  embarrassed. 

"  I  really ; '  he  began,  and  paused. 

"  Death  is  a  natural  process,"  he  said,  pull- 
ing himself  together.  '  We  doctors  are  so 
familiar  with  it  that ' 

"But  your  own  death?"  she  said. 

"  I  think  about  other  people.  It  is  my 
business  to  think  about  them." 

"  Yes,  of  course.     Good-bye,  Doctor." 

'  Your  sister  is  in  a  very  peculiar  state  of 
mind,"  he  said  to  Annie,  who  was  waiting  in 
the  drawing-room.  "  I  advise  you  not  to  worry 
her." 

"What   did   she   say?" 
'  Well,   she   said   she   thought   she  knew   as 
much  about  God  as  Father  Burch  did." 

"  But  Father  Burch  is  a  clergyman! " 

"  Yes,  I  know.    Still  that  is  what  she  thinks." 

"Poor — poor  Evelyn!"  said  Annie,  wring- 
ing her  hands. 

As  the  disease  in  Mrs  Marden  progressed 
the  attacks  of  pain  became  frequent.  One 
night,  when  she  was  suffering  severely,  she  was 


ROBERT  HICHENS  319 

given  morphia.  She  had  never  taken  mor- 
phia before  and  its  effect  upon  her  was  strange. 
Just  at  first  it  seemed  to  be  powerless,  and 
she  feared  that  in  spite  of  it  the  agony  would 
continue.  But  presently  she  felt  an  extraor- 
dinary change  in  her  condition.  She  seemed 
to  be  two  people.  Two  women  seemed  to 
be  lying  side  by  side  in  the  bed.  Each  of 
these  women  was  herself.  In  one  of  these 
women  the  pain  still  persisted.  She  seemed 
to  be  all  body,  flesh  and  blood  with  disease 
in  it.  The  other  woman  had  a  body  but  had 
also  something  else  quite  independent  of  the 
body,  quite  untouched  by  any  disease.  And  she 
lay  there  entirely  at  ease,  peaceful,  contented, 
even  happy,  and  knew  of  the  pain  in  the  other 
woman  but  did  not  mind  it  at  all.  She  didn't 
mind  it  because  her  soul  was  immune.  She 
was  released  from  the  sensation  of  pain  al- 
though she  was  aware  of  pain  still  going  on 
in  the  body  which  lay  beside  hers.  The 
absolute  consciousness  of  duality  possessed 
her. 

When  the  effect  of  the  morphia  wore  away 
the  two  women  were  merged  together  and  be- 
came one. 

The  relief  she  had  experienced  had  been  very 
wonderful.  Nevertheless  she  refused  to  have 


320  MRS  HARDEN 

morphia  again.  For  she  felt  that  it  interfered, 
like  a  shut  door,  heavily  padded,  between  her 
and  a  voice  which  was  speaking  to  her,  and 
which  she  wished  to  hear  clearly.  She  was 
now  convinced  of  the  absolute  independence 
of  the  soul.  Perhaps  she  could  not  have  de- 
scribed this  feeling.  Certainly  she  could  not 
have  argued  about  it.  Had  an  atheist  said  to 
her,  "  But  what  about  morphia?  When  mor- 
phia was  injected  into  you  didn't  it  get  at 
what  you  call  your  soul?  Was  not  your  whole 
outlook  entirely  changed  by  it  for  the  time  ?  " 
She  would  not  have  known  what  to  answer. 
If  she  had  told  the  plain  truth  she  could  only 
have  said,  "  I  feel  God  in  the  pain  as  I  have 
~^ver  felt  Him  in  anything  else.  But  I  also 
t'eei  that  my  soul  is  independent,  is  beyond 
the  pain,  out  of  its  reach.  There  is  in  me 
something  remote  which  is  able  to  look  on 
at  the  pain,  as  someone  who  is  health}^  may  look 
on  at  the  agony  of  one  who  is  dying.  And 
this  something  is  aware  of  God  as  the  sender 
of  pain." 

The  sense  of  rebellion  which  she  had  been 
conscious  of  in  her  mental  agony  at  the  loss 
of  her  boy,  the  desire  to  believe  in  a  per- 
sonal God  so  that  she  might  be  able  to  hate 


ROBERT  HICHENS  321 

Him,  had  died  out  of  her  utterly.  She  felt 
that  she  was  now  in  almighty  hands  and  she 
was  now  contented  to  be  in  them.  She  did 
not  say  to  herself,  "  I  believe  it  is  so  ".  She 
said  to  herself,  "  I  feel  it  is  so."  As  she 
had  once  said  to  Miss  King  about  knowing 
in  the  dark  when  someone  was  near,  whom 
it  was  impossible  to  see,  or  to  hear,  that  she 
seemed  to  feel  it  with  her  skin,  so  she  seemed 
to  feel  this  with  her  skin.  But  she  told  her- 
self imaginatively  that  it  was  the  skin  of  her 
soul  which  felt  it,  not  the  skin  of  her 
body. 

It  was  an  extraordinary  sensation,  unrea- 
sonable no  doubt,  inexplicable,  but  terrifically 
vital. 

And  the  pain  seemed  to  be  God  claiming  her, 
thrusting  His  way  towards  her  soul  through 
the  body  in  which  it  was  housed. 

After  each  fresh  attack  of  pain  she  felt 
more  intensely  conscious  of  God,  more  intensely 
aware  of  the  freedom  of  the  soul  in  the  body. 

'  The  disease,  wherever  it  penetrates,  will 
never  be  able  to  reach  it,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. '  Therefore  it  cannot  be  killed  when 
the  body  is  killed." 

As  her  bodily  powers  rapidly  declined  she 


322  MRS  MARDEN 

was  also  conscious  that  she  was  making  a 
journey.  Ronald  no  longer  seemed  to  be  near 
her  in  the  house.  But  she  felt  that  she  was 
travelling  towards  the  region  whither  he  had 
preceded  her. 

One   day   Mrs    Harden   said    to   the   nurse, 

"  Please  go  to  the  telephone  and  beg  Miss 
King  to  come  here  at  once.  I  must  see  her. 
You  know  the  number,  don't  you  ? " 

"  Oh  yes." 

"  Ask  her  not  to  delay." 

"  I  will." 

The  nurse  went  towards  the  door,  then 
paused, 

"Shall  I  send  for  your  sister  too?"  she 
asked. 

"  No.      She    was    here    this    morning." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  she  might  like  to  come 
again." 

"  She's  my  sister  but — no,  I  would  rather 
only  see  Miss  King." 

"  Very  well." 

"Do  you   think  me   selfish,   Nurse?" 

"No;  you  must  see  the  one  you  wish  to 
see." 

"  If  I  am  selfish  I  can't  help  it." 

The  nurse  went  out. 


ROBERT  HICHENS  323 

Towards  evening  Miss  King  arrived  and 
came  up  to  Mrs  Marden's  bedside. 

"  Sit  down  by  me,  Emily,"  said  her  friend 
in  a  weak  voice. 

Miss  King  kissed  her  and  sat  down  close 
to  the  bed. 

After  a  silence  Mrs  Marden  said, 

"  I  wish  to  tell  you  something." 

"Yes  dear?" 

"  I  have  left  you  some  money  in  my  will." 

Miss  King  said  nothing.  She  put  up  one 
hand  and  settled  her  tie.  Then  she  looked 
towards  the  window.  Her  lips  were  com- 
pressed, and  her  boyish  face  looked  almost 
stern. 

"  But  that  is  not  what  I  sent  for  you  to  tell 
you." 

"  Please — please "  said  Miss  King,  in 

an  odd,  husky  voice. 

'  What  I  wanted  to  tell  you  is  this.  Once 
you  said  to  me — I  can't  remember  exactly — 
that  perhaps  some  day  I  should  get  help — or 
enlightenment  was  it — something  like  that — 
from  the  last  quarter  I  should  expect  to  get  it 
from.  Well,  I  have  got  it." 

"Yes?" 

"  I  have  got  it  from  my  disease." 

"  But  how  could  you?  " 


324  MRS  HARDEN 

"  I  scarcely  know.  But  the  pain  I  have 
suffered  has  given  it  to  me.  I  felt  God  really 
for  the  first  time  in  that.  Isn't  it  strange?" 

"  Yes." 

'  The  pain  has  made  me  feel  that  I  be- 
long to  God.  I  thought  you  would  like  to 
know." 

"  I — I  am  very  thankful,"  said  Miss  King. 

*  Yes,  it's  a  great  mercy  for  me.  You 
don't  need  to  suffer.  But  I  did.  Some  of 
us  do,  and  I  am  one  of  them.  I  understand 
now  why  people  have  different  fates.  Hap- 
piness and  health  told  me  nothing.  And  my 
sorrow  about  Ronald  didn't  tell  me.  But  now 
I  know.  Of  course  I  don't  really  understand 
anything — with  my  mind,  I  mean.  I  still 
wonder,  in  a  way,  how  it  all  can  be  as  it 
is.  I  have  no  real  conception  of  God  even 
now.  But  I  just  feel  Him.  And  that  is 
quite  enough." 

'  Yes,  yes,  dear." 

After  a  long  silence  Mrs  Marden  said, 

"  Once  Mr  Hammond  said  something  to 
me  which  I  have  never  forgotten." 

"What  was  that?" 

"  He  quoted  a  saying.  It  was  Euripides, 
I  think— '  Who  knows  if  life  be  not  death  and 
death  be  not  life'?" 


ROBERT  HICHENS  325 

"Yes?" 

"  I  know,  Emily.     Isn't  that  strange?  " 

Miss  King  did  not  leave  the  house  that  night. 
When  the  clocks  in  the  City  had  just  struck 
eleven  Mrs   Marden  lived — at  last. 


THE  END. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACI  ITY 


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